


Going Down (Swinging)

by HarveyDangerfield, Venn



Series: Five Needs Some Love [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, Consensual Somnophilia, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Making Out, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pseudo-Incest, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Rimming, Rough Body Play, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Sleepy Sex, Subspace, Verbal Humiliation, but it's not actually underage five is an adult, but its real mild tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/HarveyDangerfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venn/pseuds/Venn
Summary: Diego bets that Five will get tired of getting his dick sucked long before he ever gets tired of sucking his dick.The gauntlet has been thrown down.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeeves/Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Series: Five Needs Some Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905880
Comments: 55
Kudos: 166





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> this is a loose continuation of the canon established in Five's Big Day, but it doesn't /require/ reading that to understand this. just know that it's a post s2 fix-it verse where they're living at home and everything is fine because i wanted domestic porn ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Diego has been having a surprisingly easy time sleeping since he moved back into the Hargreeves household with all his siblings. He would have expected nightmares, sleepless nights, tossing and turning-- he supposes it has something to do with all the work they've put into it over the last few weeks, stripping it bare of its previous trappings and updating the spaces with more modern furniture, funded by the massive estate sales that Allison has been organizing to sell off the old stuff. Collectors have been coming out of the woodwork to pay huge bucks for some of this stuff. 

Maybe it's the new bed. Diego had sold off his old twin bed and moved in a big queen sized memory foam mattress that has him out like a fucking light every time he lays on it. But sleeping well doesn't mean he's sleeping any _heavier_ , so when he hears footsteps in the hall coming towards his room, he snaps out of a dead sleep in time to see Five, predictably, fail to use the door and simply teleport directly into his room. 

"Allison wants me to get you to sign off on these," Five is saying something about the latest estate sale. Diego had promised to sell at least half of his weapon collection in return for one of the old parlors being turned into a fully-stocked gym, but Diego isn't listening. He's just staring at Five's mouth. 

Some of the sleepiness is still lingering, and Five's voice sounds like cotton in his ears. Comforting and familiar. He hears Five say something like 'are you even listening to me?' but his gaze is still laser focused on his older brother's lips. The way his cheeks divet with his smirks, the redness of his mouth. Diego has only barely woken up, but he knows the first thing he wants to do today is put his mouth right there. 

Reaching up out of the blankets with one hand, he grabs Five around the wrist and tugs him down onto the mattress with him, folding himself over his brother with a grumbly, sleepy noise like a lion, wrapping one strong, bare arm around his waist and the other around behind his shoulders, tucking his face against his chest. The clipboard and pen clatter to the floor noisily. 

It's so alien a gesture that for a second, Five doesn't know how to react. He goes entirely stiff in that heavy, warm embrace, the warmth of his brother's breath against his chest, the powerful strength behind those arms. Diego's hold was unrelenting and firm, and while Five could absolutely teleport away and leave him hugging clouds, he didn't, something in him nagging that it would be rude, especially considering they'd already passed the prelude of confessing their feelings. Technically, they were... _dating_.

Five wasn't great at it, to be honest. Had never expected to be, but an Apocalypse and a lifetime of distance, nevermind the actual isolation and torment he'd gone through, didn't exactly add up to Five being the most affectionate of people. Vanya was helping with that, as was Allison and Klaus, in those quiet moments they would all sneak from him on their own time, glimpses into a domesticity Five could have never even comprehended had it not been for their skillful and experienced leadership. 

Still, he was poorly practiced. And with Diego? Even less. Their relationship had always been antagonistic, with neither of them sticking around long enough to cuddle or even say a fond word before heading for the door. Their affection had always been better measured in action; Diego buying the things the others tried to keep from Five-- His favorite whiskey, upkeep supplies for the small artillery he'd accrued-- or Five tending to Diego's injuries in those early-morning hours when the rest of the family was asleep, and he'd rather not deal with their lecturing. They looked out for one another, and in that, there was love.

But _this?_ Five's skin feels almost too hot, the heavy cotton-blend of his suit smothering him as he lingers for just a moment in the curl of Diego's arms, before he begins to push away, a frustrated grunt leaving from deep in his chest, "Let me go, Diego, or I'm going to show you what a 'rough morning' is," He half-snarls.

"No," Diego mumbles simply, sliding one hand under Five's jacket to spread his hand on his belly. He feels it jump under the fabric of Five's shirt, which he starts to pull out from under the hard line of his belt, and nuzzles his face into the side of Five's neck. 

He'd been lost in his thoughts about Five a lot, lately. Wondering whether it made him some kind of a freak for being as attracted to Five as he was. But the fact that even the idea of analyzing other kids Five's (physical) age to assess their attractiveness made him uncomfortable, he's pretty sure that isn't the case. He'd like to insist for his own benefit that his attraction to Five is based purely on his personality and meaningfulness to Diego and has absolutely nothing to do with his appearance, but he knows truthfully it's more complicated than that. 

Objectively, he knows Five's attractive. He would have to be blind or a liar not to know that. The way his mouth quirks, the swagger in his walk and boasting in his voice-- confidence and competence are sexy, and Five has both of those in spades. But on another level, Diego _remembers_ being hopelessly attracted to Five when they were this age together, so many years ago. He remembers how star struck he would feel just watching Five's mouth shape out his words effortlessly, on the first try every single time. He remembers jealously watching the corners of Five's square jaw flex when he ground his teeth, wishing he had a face even a fraction as handsome as his brother's. And he carried those feelings his whole life, it's not like they ever went _away_. 

He kisses that jaw now, his beard scratching Five's throat as he maps out the straight lines of Five's jawbone, while his big hand flattens directly against the skin of his belly, covering as much surface area as he can. 

Diego can feel the gasp that shakes Five as his hand spreads across his stomach, bellybutton flattening, tightening throughout his entire core, even as his lips begin to work a slow, meandering line across his jaw. He had chores to do, things to take care of-- Nevermind the actual activity of working with his family to try and produce something to age him up even a little bit. Enough so he could be in public during week days without officers of the law trying to cite him for truancy, in any case.

"Diego--" Five says, his voice tight, spoken through grit teeth. He can feel his tenacity waning, can feel his desire to fight drifting the longer Diego kisses at him, almost gentle in his motion, his hand not pressing, not attacking. Five could practically feel his shoulders beginning to loosen, as every pass of his lips drags Five deeper and deeper down. He pulls again, trying to get his hands properly under him and woefully finding himself coming up short. Diego was too physically strong, his arms too tight and immoveable, and it left Five to squirm ineffectively, until a knee hooks onto the mattress and allows him at least to press his lower half up, a little-- Though what good that does aside from arching his ass into the air is yet to be seen. 

It does give him a little breathing room, though, just enough for him to pull back to look at his brother's face. Five can feel himself-- His cheeks were flushed from the warmth still sinking into his skin, his lips shiny, eyes wide and just a little blown out, "Seriously, Diego, what has gotten into you?" He grunts, a shoulder trying, unsuccessfully, to jerk out of his arm, "If this is sleepwalking, that's a little sad, even for you. Couldn't even stand up?" He sneers, voice as cold as he could make it while his chest is fluttering, so.

"Not sleep walking," Diego murmurs, and pulls Five back down when he twists enough to get a leg under him. He pulls Five onto his back and shakes the covers off himself so he can blanket his body over his brother's instead. Shamefully, he likes how much bigger he is than Five. It makes him feel strong, to be able to cover his lover's entire frame, and he knows it'll be temporary, so he has to enjoy it while it lasts. 

Wearing nothing but a pair of tight black shorts, his body sleep-warm and heavy, Diego pulls Five's shirt the rest of the way out of his belt and tugs it up to his ribs along with his sweater vest, his head dipping down to kiss a path down his stomach. He pays special attention right below Five's navel, sucking a mark in the sparse line of hair there as he holds him down by the hips. Five squirms through it, but remains put until Diego pulls away to admire the cherry red hickey he'd left behind. 

"Just enjoying your company," he finishes his thought finally, and tugs open Five's belt. "What, can't a man love on his own _boyfriend?"_

It's mostly a joke, but not entirely. The two of them in particular had had conversations about how stupid it is to call one another _boyfriend_. Like a couple of junior high kids, swapping chewing gum behind the bleachers. They mutually agreed that there isn't a perfect name for what they have-- which is two adult brothers too emotionally guarded to even consider themselves capable of a meaningful romantic relationship, who would live and die to keep one another safe-- and so it's best to not bother to try and label it at all. But _boyfriend_ always works to bring a sarcastic smile to their faces. 

It does this time, too, but Five does seem like he puts up a bit of a fight against it, the corners of his mouth wobbling as he tries to hold himself together. This has gone beyond sleepy petting or warm, affectionate exploration. Diego's mouth sent fireworks through his skin and made him prickle, and the heat of the larger man on top of him, combined with the residual heat from his nap, had Five's skin feeling almost as if it were roasting, even as he sits here and allows it to happen.

After all, he could still teleport away at any given time, he just... Didn't feel quite like it, right now. Perhaps especially not now, with the hickey burning a poignant bruise into his hip and his shirt rucked up around his ribs like a preteen playing seven minutes in heaven. 

"How about you _enjoy my company_ by signing the estate forms I brought you?" Five mutters, but there's such little heat behind his words it's laughable. His chest raises and lowers with his breath as he looks down the hard line of his nose at Diego. He watches him like he's trying to figure him out, but in truth, Five has to simply enjoy the view. He's changed since they were kids, but it was only times like these when Five got to truly appreciate how much. Heavy planes of muscle, tan-white streaks of scars, and the sinewy elegance of a predator, visible to Five even now as the man looms over him and yanks out his belt with the snap of leather.

"I'll get to it," Diego murmurs, popping the button of Five's fly.

That, at least, does a fair bit to drag Five to his senses, enough that he grabs Diego's wrist with a slim-fingered hand, holding him at bay long enough to shift and drag his other leg to join the first, adjusting his hips so he wasn't half-hanging off of the memory foam, "What's your game here, Diego?" He asks, squinting up at his brother and leaning forward to boot, his words a quiet, perfectly-dictated whisper despite the heaviness of his breath.

"I'm thinking skeeball," Diego says, catching Five's leg by the ankle (and jesus christ, his hand wraps all the way around that ankle, thumb folding over his fingertips in a way that makes his stomach flutter) and pulling off his shoe to toss it to the ground, followed by the other. But not the socks, the socks can stay. 

He opens Five's fly, hooking a knee up onto his shoulder and turning his head to mouth wetly at the sensitive pit behind it, his beard tickling him there as he smirks out a sarcastic, "I could also go for rugby, if you're offering." 

The heel of Five's foot digs into Diego's shoulder as his entire wriggles at the kiss, his breath going short as he sucks in air, the tiniest "Ah--" Leaving him, followed by a kittenish whimper that he stifles before it gets too much breath.

Delicate, sensitive skin tickled by lips and breath, Five wriggles higher onto the bed, flush growing into a burn across his face as the hand falls from Diego's hand to dig into his shoulder. They press so hard into the muscle that his fingers go white, and Five's hips twitch outside of his control, until he can quickly snag another, hasty breath. "I'd kick your ass at both of those," Five mutters, jaw clenching. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows around it, feeling suddenly like he took too big a bite of something.

Diego doesn't argue, just huffs a quiet laugh as he pulls Five's shorts and underwear down his lean legs, exposing him to his brother. Predictably, his teenage body is already responding, hypersensitive and overeager, and Diego drops down onto his belly between Five's legs, laying on the mattress as he just takes his time to explore. 

All told, the Hargreeves had only committed to a mutual relationship with their eldest brother a matter of a couple of weeks ago, and most of that time has been spent giving the mansion a massive overhaul. There hasn't been as much time to devote to actually paying the kind of attention to their new lover that most of them would like to-- and especially since at least half of them lack the initiative and confidence to seek it out themselves. 

Diego lacks neither of those, and he nuzzles his face into Five's groin just to breathe in his scent. The tart, sweet musk that Diego knows will only deepen with age. His beard tickles Five's balls and inner thighs as he opens his mouth against the tendons in his skinny thighs, tracing them with tongue and teeth and plying his brother's legs apart with strong hands that look dark and leathery against the creamy, uniform texture of Five's scarless, hairless skin. 

"Fuck," Diego bites the sound off appreciatively in his throat as he leaves a second hickey to match the one from Five's belly on his inner thigh, and glances up to see that his brother's cock had taken the time to stand upright off his hips. 

Five's brain goes a little haywire when his pants are so effectively stripped from him. There's usually more prelude to this, he can usually anticipate it coming-- It isn't very often that Five is taken by surprise, even less often does he find himself surprised by sex of all things. Yet here he was, pinned beneath his brother, the cool air of the room mingling with the warmth emanating from the bed and Diego, himself. And between them his dick, twitching and flushed as it bobs, untouched, in the air.

He doesn't register a lot until it has already happened, not realizing Diego was continuing his path south, not realizing how hungrily he'd been watching him. It was an oversight of all things, humiliating and true. Five couldn't name the last time they'd slept together that hadn't been bookended by some sort of animosity, friendly or otherwise. This feels so out of left field that he doesn't even realize it until he can feel the capillaries bursting under his skin, turning the porcelain of his skin to a brilliant mottled red and purple.

"Shit, _shit_ \--" Five hisses, and his fingers dig into the man's shoulder further, manicured nails biting into his skin and leaving pretty little crescent-moon indents in their wake. "Jesus _Christ_ , Diego--" He mutters, reverently under his breath, brilliant eyes darkened with lust, watching his brother settle between his legs as if he could build a home there and start a family.

Tiny, pert balls clench as Diego's beard tickles them, whether intentionally or not, and Five jerks hard at nothing. An errant breath, heavily sighed from his brother's flared nostrils, rushes across the delicate skin, and even such a feather-light touch was enough to make him curse. From his tip, a heavy bead of silvery precum weeps from his cockhead. Five catches his lip in his teeth to stop from moaning, but isn't able to stop Five's opposite hand from sinking into Diego's hair, twisting at the root in time with the jerk of his hips.

Diego glances up the line of Five's body, just to memorize it how it looks now. Flushed bright pink, his brows furrowed hard over desperate, beautiful green eyes. His flush isn't even, it's splotchy on his cheeks and throat, in a charming way that only highlights how pitifully oversensitive this body is. 

The motion at the tip of Five's cock gets his attention, and he watches that single bead drip off the brilliant pink cockhead and land right on top of the hickey he'd left on Five's belly. Hunger overtakes him like a wild animal, and he arches up onto his elbows, hooking his thumb around the base of his cock to pull it down to the perfect angle, and then without preamble or warning, drops his mouth over Five's length. 

It's a satisfying length, easily hitting the back of his throat and just a _touch_ past, just enough that he feels it grind against the hypersensitive base of his tongue, where it meets his esophagus. His lips are remarkably plush around the base of Five's cock as he seals them there, his beard tickling his thighs and balls relentlessly while he just basks in the comforting girth sealed in his mouth. 

Five's mouth opens with a wet sound, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth even as it goes dry as sandpaper. There's no amount of fervor that prepares him for this, no amount of wistful rutting or stolen kisses that could successfully familiarize himself with the fire that takes him so hard by surprise, he sees stars. "Diego," His name leaves Fives lips like a half-sigh, wobbling at the end like a newborn fawn.

There's no hesitation, no reluctance. Five isn't the biggest in the family-- with Luther in the gene pool it would be kind of an insult if he was-- but he was enough, and he certainly felt every groove of Diego's mouth now, from the cartilaginous ridges of his hard palate to the hungry, gentle grind of Diego's tongue against the heavy vein beneath his cock. 

His thighs twitch with every brush of hair against them, his balls clenching so tight Five worries they might get injured. Scrambling for purchase, a deep whine leaves Five as his back arches. He's still fighting his urge to moan outright, any noises he does make breathy and soft and flustered, but without much power behind them-- Ironic, considering the heavy weight behind each and every snort of air through his nostrils. He manages to thrust, sporadically twice into Diego's mouth, and he feels his cock slug deeper back into Diego's throat. He nearly cums on the spot, his toes curling, fingers tightening into a fist in his hair.

Diego knows that Five isn't going to last long, but that isn't the point of this. He isn't trying to draw it out or make it linger, he isn't even teasing his brother. While Five might be expecting him to pull away or hesitate when it seems like Five is falling head over heels rapidly towards his release, break the connection and prepare for part two of whatever it is he's planning-- Diego doesn't. 

His mouth remains sealed around his cock in a relentless vaccum as he bobs his head up and down. His eyes are closed, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration, like the task before him is one deserving great reverence and respect. For Diego, it does. The subject of his own sexuality has been complicated since his youth, he never took to queer labels with the same level of effortlessness that Klaus or Vanya did. In fact, his queer exploration began _and_ ended with his brothers. He feels like he has a lot owed to Five, in so many more ways than one, but how does one thank someone for saving the world? 

It's too big, too impossible. But Diego _can_ thank Five for the opportunity just to touch him. Face nestled between his thighs, big hands curled up under his legs to hold him down by his belly and hips, he takes to the task of sucking Five dry like he's being paid to do it. 

And Five crashes into that wall of pleasure so bright he can barely look at it. There's no warning. There is no prelude. He doesn't even have the chance to get out anything more than a sharp, " _Diego-!"_ before he's reaching the precipice and falling down the other side, orgasm blindsiding him as his head drags roughly into the back of Diego's throat, and he spills himself down into the wet, tight warmth of his brother's mouth.

His toes curl, his heels dig into Diego's shoulders, and his hands fist in Diego's hair and press him down, hungry and selfish with all the physical control of his faculties as any other fourteen year old. There's no compassion in the stuttering, twitch of his thighs and hips, no consideration for Diego's limits as Five buries his head between his thighs. 

Five comes so hard his back rises off of the mattress, curling in on himself like it was a full-body work out, and only lets go once every last throbbing jerk of his cock is finished, every bolt of pleasure subsided. He falls back shortly afterward, boneless and stunned, green eyes staring sightless at the ceiling as his body continues to twitch with aftershocks. His fingers loosen, just enough to drag through Diego's hair more like he was a beloved pet than the man who had just sent electricity to every nook and cranny of his body.

Diego pulls off with a self-satisfied slurp, his own belly fluttering ever so slightly with lust-- but he can attend to that later. He gives Five two quick slaps on the hip like he's congratulating a fellow sportsman on a job well done, and stands up off the bed. He picks up the clip board from the ground along with the pen while Five just lays there panting and staring at the ceiling. 

"All signed," he says, tucking the pen into the clamp at the top of the board, and he lays it against Five's belly, along with his shorts and shoes, all piled neatly on top of him. "Take your time catching your breath, champ, I'm gonna shower." 

He grabs his container of toiletries without another word and heads out through his bedroom door and down the halls to their showers, humming to himself as he goes, leaving Five there wondering what the _hell_ just happened. 

Despite his background with the weird and unusual, that term didn't typically apply to his family, who had always been a kind of 'weird and unusual' he could understand. Five recovers as soon as he can, only allowing himself to hang in the musty, salty haze of Diego's room for a minute or two before grabbing the clothes and clipboard off of his stomach and getting dressed, his bones and body aching in a way he still hadn't quite gotten used to. It was like a work out, but deeper, and he wondered if he ought to teleport to the showers to show Diego a taste of his own medicine.

He doesn't, ultimately. He'd been sent here for a reason, after all, and Allison would surely be expecting him any minute now. Looking at the clock, she probably expected him thirty minutes ago, but there'd been a reason she'd sent Five to bully Diego into signing: He was notoriously difficult. At this point, they all just assumed it was a point of pride for the vigilante.

The sales have been taking place over the course of nearly a month so far, the house so massive and diverse in its holdings. Each section of the house had to be catalogued and appraised, and then put up to auction or overseen the effects of, personally. They were only fortunate Allison seemed excited to dig into something so vast that didn't involve her peddling her tears to a half-horny audience of Rom Com aficionados. 

Five has been helping with the planning, and especially the talking to people. Rich businessmen were always put off by a young boy playing hardball with their cash, and that was good because it meant he could talk them into paying more for things they couldn't possibly need. After all, what good would a 14 year old boy have about bragging about the lavishness of a particular globe or wardrobe? In some cases they could raise the price by just planning a temper tantrum at the right time: Old guys really were the worst when it came to their pleasures. Some would pay top dollar just to deprive a bratty teenager of something they wanted.

But for the most part, Five's duties were relegated to the attic and war rooms, cataloguing and pulling apart what they did need, what could be repurposed, and what could be sold. Most of the things in storage were massively useful, but also derelict, and many of the Hargreeves didn't even know what they were looking at, relying on their ancient younger brother's eye to tell them if anything was useful or not. It keeps him out of the way and occupied during the morning and afternoon hours, when children his age were meant to be in school and developing, and kept him primarily out of the eye of his siblings. Otherwise they might find argument with the way he slugs back pulls from his flask every ten minutes or so, or lingers over an antiquated rifle or two.

Today is one of those sales, which means the manor is going to be teeming with life by dinnertime, people all milling about in their most show-offiest garb, as if a nice evening gown will somehow seal the deal on an ancient set of crystalwear from the 1800s that Reginald inexplicably kept in his office. Days like this are always a hassle to plan, Allison delegates the scene setting by making sure the public spaces are immaculate, while Vanya helps Grace in the kitchens just to tuck herself out of the way. Klaus spends most of the day snoozing so he's refreshed and lively by the time their house is full of people so he can help Five charm and scam people out of their money, while Luther helps the staff at the backend actually move all the heavy old pieces to the vans so they can be safely transported to buyer's homes. 

And Diego, well. Diego does whatever he can to stay out of the way. Sometimes he leaves the house entirely, on occasion if he's _really_ bored he'll go help the girls in the kitchens to make all the fancy hoosie-dervies for the socialites buying up all the old crap in their house. But honestly the "house" is the size of an entire city block and he can lose himself just wandering around the buildings. They could do this 'estate sale' crap for years and still not be rid of all this stuff. Really they only need to deal with less than a fourth of the space, if they asked him, they should just sell the rest of the buildings back off-- but many of them are in disrepair, with walls haphazardly knocked out between them and a paranoid labyrinth of secret tunnels constructed through them like a fucking habitrail. Nobody would buy them. 

Climbing the stairs to the attic with a mind to people watch on the fire escape for a while, Diego finds Ben's bedroom door open, and ducks his head inside to see Five just standing there in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. It's remained untouched all these years, with a thin veneer of dust over most surfaces. Even Grace didn't come up here to clean, whether because it hurt too much or because her programming informed her she didn't need to come to the attic anymore after losing the only two children who slept up there. 

"Thinking of breaking it down to sell?" Diego asks. Ben's presence in their lives has been confusing and unusual ever since finding out he'd been a tagalong to Klaus all this time. Some of the sadness had lifted from his loss, and the insurmountable idea of actually clearing out his space is feasible for the first time in almost two decades. 

Five has been stuck staring at the bed in particular for hours. He remembers how much Ben liked the little hammock in the corner, the comfortable recliner they'd secretly dug out of storage and hauled to this side of the house through many smaller teleportation exercises and with a little help from Ben's tentacle friends. Those things, at least, seemed unfair to touch. But his bed? When he wouldn't even arguably have a body? Even if Ben was.... sort of with them still, the bed seemed superfluous.

"Not sure if it's worth it," Five says shortly, not flinching or jerking around to look at Diego. He might have, if the man had taken him by surprise. But the stairs were creaky and the wood hadn't gained stability in its time of disuse, so he hadn't been subtle. 

Taking a step forward, Five squints at the headboard, tilting his head at the carvings he found there, a slight smile twisting onto his lips, "I do know he hated this thing. Said it made him uncomfortable." It was far past disgusting now, at least, covered in a a heavy cake of dust that only spared the mattress and covers because it had been covered with a large, white sheet at some point. Presumably when he'd died.

"Maybe we could just break it ourselves. Could be a good destructive outlet," Only now does Five finally look over at Diego, smile still sarcastic, "We all know you get in moods."

"I don't have moods," Diego says moodily. 

He steps up directly behind Five, propping an arm on his shoulder. But it isn't the mocking lean of a brother supporting his weight on his shorter sibling-- it feels decidedly more intimate than that. He's standing behind him, not beside him, with his arm looped over his shoulder in something resembling a one-armed embrace. Where this new _cuddly_ side of Diego is coming from all of a sudden, Five doesn't know. 

It's still weird for Five to be shown such easy, casual affection. For so long, human contact was a comodity. Hell, contact with anything warm that carried a pulse was a commodity for a man like Five. To have it be given so freely without expectation or demand or trade was... Unusual, for the boy. Still, it wasn't like he was opposed, and for a dreamy second he actually feels his shoulders drop, shifting his hip to press soundlessly against Diego's side.

And then it's as if nothing had changed at all as Five pulls the flask out of his pocket and takes a long drink, "You're feeling sentimental, is that it?" He asks crisply, holding the flask up to Diego as a sort of peace offering. It was affection, in his way.

Diego accepts it more out of his own desire to soak in affection from Five wherever he offers it, than actual interest in the drink. He only takes enough to wet his tongue before offering it back, and sighs. 

"Maybe a little," he admits, and sits heavily on the edge of Ben's bed. "We spent so long mourning him and he was there the whole time. Still don't think I've completely forgiven Klaus for taking as long as he did to tell us."

The room is small, small enough that even sitting on the bed, Diego can lean forward and reach out to grab Five by the front of his sweater, tugging him forward to meet him. Ben wasn't the only one they lost only to get him back years and years later, and Diego is much more interested in pursuing the deep affection he feels for the boy in front of him than the vague sorrow he feels for the boy whose room they're sitting in. 

When Five's chest hits Diego's, he wraps his arms around his smaller brother with a sigh, sinking into the warmth of his blazer. "Don't wanna think about Ben," he mutters, as if he isn't sitting on his bed. 

Five is sure it's just a trick of perspective, the larger brother sitting in front of him in the bed, curling his arms around Five's waist because that's where he could reach. Like a toddler wrapping his arms around their mother's leg. Only neither Five nor Diego were children, not really, and the arms around him were not the tentative, concerned grasp of an infant. 

Still, Five frowns as he looks down at the top of Diego's head, tucking the flask back in his pocket. It's such an unnatural position that Five moves almost robotically, settling his hands on Diego's shoulders after what seems like a moment of apprehension. "We don't have to," He says, voice low, maybe even a little concerned. 

"I doubt he's here," Five goes on, casting a look around the room, "He never liked it up here." But then again, he didn't like most things about the Academy.

With Five's reassurance, Diego lifts his head and connects his mouth with Five's in a firm, unyielding kiss. Diego and Five don't kiss often-- in fact, it's hard to summon a memory in which they have kissed. The only reason either of them could be reasonably sure it happened at some point was simply because of the frequency with which they fooled around as kids. Surely it must have happened at some point. Surely this isn't their first kiss.

But it certainly hasn't happened since Five returned. The scratch of Diego's beard against his face, and the press of his large, strong hands around his jaw are too memorable for something like that to just slip his mind. Diego's kiss isn't unkind, but it certainly isn't delicate, either. His lips move against Five like he's trying to dig between his teeth, but doesn't actually include tongue even when Five's lips part in surprise. 

One hand curls around the back of Five's head and the other tightens around his waist, flattening him flush with Diego's chest between his spread legs. He seems perfectly content to just hold him and devour his mouth, anything to chase away and replace the lingering, strange sadness about Ben. Replace it with the best thing Diego can currently think of: Five.

Five sighs into the powerful kiss as he succumbs to it, with only a fleeting thought of the work he was still supposed to be doing. The rich elite downstairs couldn't hear them, more than four floors above their head, and if they could? Well, that was sort of what they wanted when they came to the mysterious Umbrella Academy doors. Many of them were here to buy tokens from the decrepit estate, just to claim they owned a piece of history. Just last week, an old target dummy of Diego's had gone for almost five thousand dollars-- Just because it had been riddled with pockmarks were Diego's knife had found its chest and head.

But the work could wait, there would always be more time for cataloguing, so for now Five leans into the kiss and presses back just as unrelentingly, just as unforgivingly. He wasn't going to be a supplicant this time, no innocent wallflower routine to fall back on. His fingers scratch through the baby hairs at the back of Diego's neck as he pulls him in deeper, and for once it's Five who supplies the gentleness. His tongue drags over Diego's lip without slipping inside, content to feel the roughness of his lips and the scrape of his hair against Five's cheek and chin.

His leg lifts, one after the other, and Five straddles Diego on Ben's bed, knees finding purchase in the dusty, white linen, unused for so long and left to the whims of time. He kicked up particles in the air, the light streaming through the window foggy and scattered, the moon looming far too high in the sky. Not for the first time, Five feels the rush of relief overcome him, that their job had been done.

Five's back hits the bed and Diego is on top of him, the same way he was so recently. Had that been this morning? Yesterday? The days have been blurring together without any constant threat to force the mind to count the minutes and hours to doom. The work to sell the estate's holdings is monotonous and repetitive, and half the family has been dissociating just to survive the anxiety of leagues of strangers perusing their family home like a museum as it is. 

Diego weighs him down as the kiss deepens, the bedroom door still wide open as he pours himself into Five's mouth with a sigh through his nose. The old bedsprings creak ominously under their combined weight on a bed that hasn't seen a human touch in over fifteen years, but the larger man couldn't begin to care. He's already reaching for Five's belt, swallowing hard to keep his mouth from literally watering while it's occupied with his brother's, as he recalls the weight of Five on his tongue. 

"I wanna suck your cock again," he grumbles into Five's mouth, breathing hard through his nose. 

"Seriously?" Five whispers with the faintest lilt of a laugh in his voice. He arches his back to keep himself pressed into Diego's chest, his legs spreading beneath the larger man to slip around his hips. Five drags his heels down Diego's thighs, his shoes uncomfortable and hard. At least they matched the taut muscle he'd built over the years. 

Five shakes his head as he pulls away, only able to for a short amount of time before his mouth is captured again. "What has gotten into you?" He asks once they have the chance to pull away, Five's face growing flushed and his lips shiny from their kiss, "Should I be concerned this is a symptom of something worse, or--" He's kissed again, and his words die on his lips, lost to his brother's mouth, swallowed by his tongue. Five, for his part, does absolutely nothing to argue. He doesn't mind. When it comes to distraction, he's all too familiar.

Diego's mouth moves across his cheek to that jawline he's so obsessed with. He considers giving him a hickey he couldn't possibly hide even with the highest of collars, and only barely restrains himself from doing so, only for the sake of Five's dignity. He'll do it later, when there's not so many strangers in the house. As it is he just rakes his teeth across the jut of bone and opens Five's belt, rumbling appreciatively in his ear as he pulls Five's half-hard cock out of his shorts. 

He doesn't undress his brother this time, just opens his pants enough to get his hand on him. His palm is dry, so he pulls back and works up saliva in his mouth, spitting it into his hand and roughly closing it back around Five's length in order to jerk him to full hardness. He isn't a fucking princess about it, either, he doesn't treat Five with the kid gloves he's come to expect from some of the other members of the family-- Allison and Luther, namely. 

"What's gotten _into me_ ," he finally deigns to respond when Five's breath hitches in his chest. "Is _you_. I can't stop _fucking_ thinking about you, you prick. What gives you the right to live in my head rent free? I suck your cock once and you think that gives you the run of the place."

The aggression in the tone gets Five to smile at least. It's familiar, much moreso than the odd, affectionate warmth Diego had spoken with in his bed, gravelly with sleep and comfort. This, though, this makes Five smirk, and he doesn't even feel bad as he lets his head tip back against the sheet, ignoring the dust no doubt ruining his blazer, or Diego's entire outfit. He watches the ceiling through his lashes, content to drag his tongue over his bruised lips, the hand on his cock certainly working blood and warmth to it, despite the grit of his shorts in the way.

"Lets be honest, Diego, I never left," Five mutters with a breathy, contented sigh, his hips arching as his body rolls into the sensation. Here, Five seems so much more relaxed, so much more in his element than last time. A rut in his dead brother's bed was somehow more familiar than a mid-morning rendezvous in the sheets. He opens one eye to look down his nose at the larger man, tongue dragging across his teeth almost predatorially. There's something about the idea of Diego unable to help himself that has Five getting ideas. He hated to see a man without work, and Diego did seem invested in this.

Plans to be enacted later, daydreams to think about in the shower-- right now Five has something real to dive into, the grind of Diego's calloused fingers making his cock swell and fill out in his palm, even as the warmth begins to muddy in Five's gut, "Mm. I just had no idea you liked being on your knees so much," He admits, "Or I would've put you there sooner. You're so--" A gasp hitches his breath and interrupts his words, "...Enthusiastic."

"You smug son of a bitch," Diego leans out over Five on his free hand, the mattress creaking as he looms over his smaller brother. His other hand continues its task, twisting his wrist roughly around his cock with every stroke. "Can't even get your dick sucked with grace, you just gotta say somethin' about it, don't you?" 

It is true, though. Five had always occupied a space in Diego's mind over the years. When they were kids, it was a jealous sort of admiration. After he left, a desperate need to surpass him, to be better than him, and as he grew older that was replaced by a pang of nostalgic fondness. With the maturity of age came a new understanding and respect of his brother, although that doesn't completely negate the fact that he finds his smug attitude grating sometimes. 

Five tilts his head curiously at Diego, even as his breath hitches and pleasure begins to spike like waves of static, pulsing from his chest to his cock, then back again in a never-ending loop curiously in time with the twisting of Diego's wrist. His smirk doesn't waver, even if his eyes flutter half-shut before opening again, hips raising. He sighs, a control tactic at best as he can feel his belly beginning to clench. 

Dragging his tongue over his lip, Five leans forward and swallows, thoughtful rumble leaving his chest as he fits himself over Diego's shoulder, breath in his ear. "You haven't started sucking yet," Five murmurs, and almost sounds like he's challenging him as he does. Knowing Five, he was.

Diego takes his mouth in another bruising kiss that doesn't last nearly long enough before he roughly shoves Five back down onto his back with a hand on his chest. Rather than lay on the bed, Diego shifts to kneel on the ground beside it instead. The little twin bed was a cramped space for the two of them, and it gives him a better angle to work from as he yanks Five's hips to the edge of the mattress. 

Electing to tug his shorts down off one thigh while leaving them draped around the other, Diego promptly wraps Five's thighs around his neck like a scarf and sets to work. The door is still open at his back, and even though the only people who would ever come up here are the same people already involved in their polycule, the inherent riskiness of an open door is tantalizing as he drags his tongue up the length of Five's cock. 

Rather than suck him right down to the root like last time, Diego decides to tease. He runs wet, open-mouth kisses up and down the thick vein that lines the bottom, and toys with his balls with one hand, sliding the other up under his shirt just to feel across his skinny torso fondly. He doesn't brace Five's cock in place with either hand, which leaves it to move any which way with the force of Diego's mouth, but part of the fun is adjusting his angle to chase it down again for another sucking kiss.

"Ahhh..." Five growls under his breath as Diego opts for a new strategy. Selfishly he'd hoped it would be a repeat of round one from before, Diego pinning him down, sucking him dry, leaving. That was easy. With the new atmosphere, Five could probably move on from that without being too strung out. But he's already remembering last time, the hollow suck of Diego's cheeks, the warmth of his tongue-- and each kiss is a meandering promise of that to come, even if he never follows through.

Aggravation dots his tone, frustration curling his lips as Five raises his hips to press his cock urgently into Diego's cheek, stubble and hair grinding against the sensitive skin and immediately making the smaller man stammer backwards, hips jerking away, "Alright--" he mutters under his breath as his fingers raise to fit back into Diego's hair. He would need a hair cut soon. There was a lot for Five to grab. 

He tries to coerce the man's mouth onto him, trying to guide his kisses by aiming his hips for his mouth, only really succeeding in dragging a wet line of precum across Diego's cheek, shiny in the dim light. That gets Five to smile again, at least, even if his voice is rough as he mutters, "Now that's a look, Diego." The antagonism underlined only a little by the way his stomach clenches, and his thighs twitch.

"You wanna cum on my face?" Diego sneers it, but it's a genuine offer. It's not like Diego has to go running back downstairs to schmooze with rich people when they're done here, he has time to go wash his face while Five returns to the throng of people throwing money at them for fancy trash. He wipes the slick off his cheek with his thumb and cleans it off with his tongue while maintaining eye contact. 

"Seriously?" Five mutters, but actually sounds a little incredulous against Diego's snide jibe. It was almost an insulting jab, and maybe it was supposed to be, but something about the callous offer combined with the way Diego was looking at him now, sucking on his thumb, had Five's mouth going dry and his cock jerking against his belly. "Shit, Diego, Christ-- _yeah_ , I do," He mutters, and twists the man's hair in his hands to direct his head down, "Let me." He says as a demand, not a request.

Diego's stomach boils hotly when Five all but _commands_ him to allow it, and suddenly he feels like a little boy again, barely able to stammer his way through a sentence while Five put him in his place. He feels a throb between his own legs that he handily ignores, in favor of opening his mouth and downing Five's cock again like before. 

He kind of _hopes_ that one of their siblings will come wandering upstairs in search of them, only to find Five splayed out on his back with his cock pinned down Diego's throat. Maybe Diego's just a glutton for punishment, but the idea of being caught red handed by Klaus or Allison or even Vanya makes his stomach do flip flops. He sets into a breakneck pace, closing his eyes in concentration as he drags his mouth up and down his brother's length. 

Hooking one thumb into the base, he plays with Five's balls with his other hand, charmed by how small and smooth they are. He holds them by the base between his thumb and middle finger and grinds his thumb against them like he's trying to work a divet into a worrystone, rubbing in tight little circles to match the quick pace of his bobbing head. 

Five practically gags as his tongue catches on his throat. But they're in the attic, alone from prying eyes-- despite the open door practically inviting them. So, he decides to reward Diego, just a little, as the man sets to work hungrily devouring him like his favorite snack. Where he'd learned this skill, Five didn't know, where he'd acquired a taste for it? He could guess. But when Diego takes him to the base and grinds his nose into the delicate skin there, Five tips his head back and lets out a moan from deep in his gut, a crooning moan that shatters the silence of the peaceful bedroom. 

"Shit, yeah, _fuck_ ," The litany of curses spills from Five's throat as his hand twists, hips raising to meet Diego's mouth as he eagerly is allowed to participate. His balls twitch and clench in the man's hand, snapping tight against his skin as the salty tang of precum drips sluggishly from him in uneven spurts. 

He's close, but Five bears down to hold on, not wanting it to end so soon, not until he made his brother work just a little more "Dammit, Diego, fucking--" He snarls and with one thrust, both hands find purchase on the man's hair and shoves his head down, even as Five's hips jerk forward to fuck into his throat, shallowly, pace irregular but unrelenting.

Five isn't strictly physically strong enough to move Diego, but hearing him _moan_ like that is enough to convince Diego to do anything his brother could possibly ask of him, and so he obeys the direction without argument. His stomach throbs, and he takes his hand away from Five's cock to drape his heavy forearm over his hips instead, holding him down to the mattress with very little effort so he can measure out the strokes of his mouth with more ease. 

  
He wants to say something, he wants to tease, to praise. He wants to say that hearing Five moan makes him want to give him everything. He wants to say that bringing his brother pleasure gives him _energy_. Adrenaline pumps through his body as he feels Five draw up tight like a bowstring, and when he feels Five's thighs start to clench and tremble around his ears in the telltale sign of his coming orgasm, he pulls back entirely. 

Swiftly replacing his mouth with his hand before Five can scold him for depriving him, he jerks him roughly and aims Five's cock at his face. "Come on you nasty old man," he grunts, his voice pleasantly scratchy from use. "Lemme have it."

Diego can see the way Five's nostrils flare when the older man looks down at him, can see the high flush on his cheeks and the angry furrow to his brow. He looks like he wants to devour Diego, sitting as he is now, wedged between Five's thighs and holding onto him tightly. His weight is enough to pin Five down, but it doesn't seem to be enough to cow his fervor, as his hips still strain to buck up, stopped only by the arm draped across the thin plane of his hips.

It's the words, really, that twist hotly in Five's gut as he says them. Nasty old man wasn't something his siblings had acknowledged, nonetheless goaded him over being, and there was something refreshing about the upfront confrontation. It was certainly refreshing enough to make Five growl and yank Diego's hair so hard he could feel hair tearing in his fingers, "Yeah..." He snarls through grit teeth, the rest of his body tight like a screw, "Asshole--" 

He manages to grit it out just in time to cum messily over Diego's face. He was young, his drive was large, and-- either unfortunately or fortunately, depending on what he thought-- he came plenty. Heavy ribbons of white stream onto Diego's face, painting across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, even dangerously close to an eye, and Five barely remembers to watch as it happens, an agonized groan wrenching itself from Five's body as he watches Diego through half-lidded eyes and thick lashes.

Diego opens his mouth again to catch a couple strings on his tongue, milking Five through it with rough strokes until he feels his dick start to go slack in his palm, twitching with light aftershocks and the pulse of Five's heartbeat. He watches his brother sag back against the bed panting, finally breaking eye contact after taking in every second of Diego's luxurious facial. 

"Damn," Diego praises, his voice croaky as he sits back on his heels, and he gathers the string under a little too close to his eye, cleaning it off with his tongue again in the same gesture that makes Five's belly clench to witness again. "You really know how to show a girl a good time."

Five laughs, breathlessly, eyes opening a millimeter as he stares at the ceiling, measuring the crossbeams with his eyes. He clearly has to take his time readjusting and finding his bearings after such a frankly mindblowing blowjob. the second one in as many days-- Five wonders if he'll be spoiled at this point, if his siblings will try to return the favor and up the ante, so to speak. He could only imagine what seeing them like this would be like-- it makes his belly clench hungrily, the thought alone.

"You've got no idea," Five admits, sneaking another look down a this brother and moaning at what he sees. "Christ, Diego, you really look good like that. Should wear it more often."

"You really are a nasty old man," Diego says, pulling a kerchief out of one of the many pouches on one of his many harnesses to wipe his face clean. He'll do a more thorough job later, really shampoo his beard to make sure there's nothing left behind. 

Looming out over Five, he gives him just the same treatment as before, slapping him on the hip as if congratulating him on a game well won, announces a curt little "Good talk," and then turns to leave the room to give Five the dignity of redressing himself, closing the bedroom door behind him. 

Diego hears the quietest little "Wait--" before the door shuts behind himself and Five is left alone with his thoughts not the first time and it would seem to be nowhere near the last, when Diego pulled Five apart only to crassly leave him to pick up the pieces of his own self. Fortunately this time Five has a little more sense, and he clumsily zips himself back into his pants and teleports to cut Diego off, just before he disappears down the stairs, cum drying across his cheek, a little in his beard.

"Hey," He says, blocking the stairs downstairs with his own body, as much as he was capable. He seems like he's barely standing, the effort of it making both of his legs tremble, "Didn't anyone teach you that it's rude to leave without being excused?" He snaps, just a little short, his emotions rather... volatile, after such a mind-wiping orgasm.

Diego's mouth pulls up in a little smirk to one side. He can see Five's still recovering, the flush is still high on his cheeks and his hair is a mess-- it's cute. 

"Sorry, did you wanna cuddle?" he teases. He sincerely can't help himself, and he opens his arms in offer of an embrace.

"Knock it off," Five snaps, sounding a little flustered as he points over Diego's shoulder, back from where they had both come from to begin with. "Go, I'll meet you there," He says, scowling, preparing to teleport, but unwilling to until he's sure Diego will go with him.

Diego probably _could_ duck under Five's arm. Sure, Five could teleport back in front of him, but when it comes to feats of physical strength, Diego has his brother handily outmatched. He could pick him up and throw him out the window, and his muscles would almost surely have more stamina in them than Five has teleportation juice. But there's something intense in his eye that Diego doesn't want to argue with, not because he feels subservient, but because he's curious. 

So he turns without a word and trots back up the stairs, rubber soles heavy on the steps. He hears the soft thump of air displacing as Five teleports to the bedroom, and he seriously considers faking him out and sprinting down the stairs just to force his brother to chase him down like old times-- but while Diego's outmatched him in strength, Five is undoubtedly faster than him. 

He leans in Ben's doorway on one should, crossing his arms and ankles simultaneously. "Can I help you?"

Five vanishes from the steps, then reappears in the bedroom, tugging at the cuff of his blazer, his shirt, as if dusting himself off. As if the return of his brother was something that was to be bragged about. He looks up thoughtfully, tilting his head at Diego after just a second of squinting distrustfully at the man.

"What's with you?" He demands, not for the first time, "Should I book an appointment with a doctor?" He shoves his hands into his pockets and squints up at the older man.

"Why?" Diego asks, rooted in his spot with his arms crossed. "You think there's something _wrong_ with me just cause I like going down on you? Is your self esteem really that low? You know, positive self-affirmations can really help with that sort of thing,"

"Last I checked, the Diego I knew wouldn't be caught begging for me to cum on his face," Five's voice cuts through the air as he takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between them, "I bet you'd let me fill your stomach if I told you to kneel in one spot." It sounds like he'd been considering it, thoughtfully so.

"You thought that was _begging?"_ Diego says, ignoring the way his belly clenches at Five's suggestion. Fuck, he would. He reaches forward to grab Five by his stupid sweater, yanking him up onto his toes. "Oh, little man, I'm _not_ the Diego you knew. I bet money I could outpace you. You'd get so fucking sensitive you'd have to beg _me_ to stop before I'd ever get tired of sucking your cock."

Five's teeth clench in a bared smile, the white visible before he actually does vanish, only to reappear heavily on top of Diego's shoulder, perched like a house cat between the blades-- He wasn't light, but he holds on as Diego stumbles to catch himself, not once concerned for his safety. Diego would catch him, with his back or otherwise. 

Leaning into his brother's ear, Five's fingers go white on his shoulder as he rumbles, "Fat chance, asshole," Into the shell, biting his lobe for emphasis.

Diego whips around to slam Five into the wall behind his back, pinning him there and using his weight against the smaller man. "You wanna make a bet on it?" he sneers in offer.

The thud resonates through the house, but certainly not loud enough for anyone to hear, especially with how busy the rest of the house is. Dragging his tongue over his lips, Five hums lowly, the rumble able to be felt through Diego's back as he holds himself in place, "Winner gets bragging rights," he says, and knows that for Diego? That will be more than enough, "As loudly and as often as they want."

Diego reaches back up over his shoulder to scruff Five by the neck, whipping him around again and tossing him onto the bed like a ragdoll, covering his body with his own after lunging across the room like a fucking jungle cat. He catches Five's wrists and pines them to the bed, weighing him down with an ominous creak of springs. "If either one of us says it's time for a blow, any time, _any place,_ the first one to say no loses. And no fucking allowed until one of us cracks. Oral and hands only. Which means if you want anything in your ass, you've gotta admit defeat first."

While Five might have started the conversation looking indignant and wild, the-- what, _threat?_ \-- has him leaning away from Diego, lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk, "Deal," He says, pleased, "You forget: I went a lifetime without sex," He then leans forward, wrists twisting in the larger man's powerful grasp, "How long can _you_ go without fucking?" 

And now it's Five who teleports away, evaporating from under his brother and knocking on the wood of the door frame twice, the cat who ate the cream, "Game on, Diego. Don't fuck up. Or do," And he gives a cordial wave, shutting the door behind him as he teleports down the stairs.


	2. Day Two

Maybe there's an unspoken, 'polite' time between when the bet is made and the time the bet is enacted, some sort of grace period where Five and Diego ought to catch their bearings and prepare for the trial by fire that was to come. But if it existed, neither one of the boys had thought to add that clause into their statement, and Five wasn't one to read between lines that weren't there to read from: So Five decides the exact next morning is time enough to start playing. Diego had wanted to make this a competition, pitifully proud as he was, and so a competition it is. Conversely, Five has never needed bragging rights to feel good about himself.

Bragging rights usually just came to him. He attracted them like flies.

There was no reason to go hard on Diego, really. No _reason_ to go at him running and try and trip him up out of the gate, but Five figures he could take an aggressive stance now and let him figure out the pieces later. Diego had never been known for his tact. Planning wasn't his strong suit, willpower wasn't his best friend: To make a bet cycling through all of his weak points (aside from the blowjobs themselves, Five had to admit) seemed like hubris on his part, and class was in session.

Where else more fitting than their father's office. The illustrious bastion of a cruel man's life's work, cloaked in expensive cherry wood and dripping in affluence, from the ornate corpses of animals decorating the walls to the leather bound, gold-leafed books lining the shelves. There was nothing about this study that screamed anything but vanity-- so it was fitting they sell it to vultures looking for a claim to that very same, so soon after the old bastard's death.

Five is dwarfed by the massive leather chair as he sits in it, a deeply-full glass of his father's best scotch in hand, the crystal decanter left open and out on the desk next to him. He'd sent Vanya with a word to Diego saying Five needed him to sign over more documents in Dad's study, and while he was sure Diego would take his time-- this room had always held such negative connotations for him-- once he got there, it would all be made well in due time.

He's reclined in the chair as one might an oversized loveseat, his ankles crossed on the thick wooden frame as he keeps an eye on the door. One thing about the Hargreeve house was how very silent it was during the day, when the outside noise had been blocked off, and only the noises of his siblings remained. He could hear Vanya upstairs, her footsteps feather-light like a mouse, and they start, then stop, accompanied by a slam. Diego's door, no doubt. Taking a drink, Five drags his tongue over his lower lip-- "Three... Two.... One...." He counts casually as he inspects his glass, pointing to the ceiling just in time to hear the heavy, telltale thud of his brother's boots through the walls above him.

Five's siblings are really too easy, and he knows them too well. And this? Is a perfect start to Diego's little tête-à-tête.

Diego's had just about enough of signing fucking papers for a lifetime. Why there has to be so much goddamn legalese around selling off a bunch of crap, he'll never understand. If these rich bastards could just bring cash everything would be so much simpler, all this fanfare is nothing but theatre for the self-important. 

Reginald's office door bangs against the wall. Maybe Diego's overcompensating a bit in his anger towards a dead man and having to set foot in his den of opulence, but when he sees Five sitting in his chair instead, some part of Diego that had been instinctively preparing him for an encounter with their father is reminded of the fact that he's dead, and his shoulders slump a bit, his posture relaxing to follow. 

"Why do you need _me_ to sign shit, I don't own anything in here," he mutters distastefully, making eye contact with a dead-eyed deer on the wall directly over Five's head before glancing back down at his brother. 

"You don't?" Five asks, dramatically innocuously as he casts a cursory glance around the ancient study. No, Diego didn't own anything in here. Of course he didn't own anything in here. "Guess there's nothing for you to sign, after all."

Five gives Diego an indulgent smile, like the man was a puppy more than a person. It was almost affectionate, the way Five tilts his head at his larger brother, even as his ankles slip from the desk top and onto the ground, toes bouncing just a little bit before settling, and scooting him back in the chair.

His thighs spread, opening the space between them, and Five looks curiously to his glass of scotch as he hums, "It'd be a shame to make you come down all this way for nothing, though," He clicks his tongue, then catches Diego's eyes with his own, smile turning predatory. Five leans back against the plush leather back, the chair groaning under his weight. His voice is a purr as he commands, "Suck me off while I finish my scotch." Five never breaks eye contact.

Diego's face cycles through several emotions rapidly when Five speaks. The first thing to hit his eyes is heat. It isn't that he _forgot_ about the bet, they only just made it last night after all. But to actually hear it in action, to be _commanded_ to drop to his knees for Five lights a fire in Diego's stomach that he hasn't felt since he was a kid. He recognizes it as submission, and his chest tightens with embarrassment and fever in equal measure. After the heat, it's followed up by shock, as it sinks in exactly _where_ he's being told to perform, and what it would mean to comply.

"Really, in dad's office?" Diego says. He knows the rules, he set them him damn self. He's supposed to obey or he runs the risk of losing out the gate, but he can't help but engage in a _little_ banter... he wouldn't be doing himself justice otherwise.

"Would it make you feel better if you were under the desk? What you can't see can't hurt you, right?" Five asks curiously, leaning forward to set the glass down even as his hand goes to the buckle of his belt. His fingers drag against it, the metal shining in the light. Either Diego was paying hyper-close attention, or he'd shined it just for the occasion, it was hard to say. But his thumb drags against the clasp almost reverently.

Five whistles through his teeth to yank Diego's attention up again, and his eyes are hard as he raises his eyebrows. "Come on, you can't already be having second thoughts. I thought you'd love the chance to get cum on dad's favorite chair," There's the metallic jangle of his belt being undone, and the telltale zip of his fly, "Now come here and suck my dick, or tell everyone you're a little bitch who can't follow through. It's your choice, Diego."

Diego gives a growl of annoyance at just how fucking _hot_ those words make him, and he yanks the door shut behind him. He doesn't bother locking it, there aren't any people in the house now except for their siblings, and the idea of being caught with Five's dick down his throat is as tantalizing as ever. 

He drops to his knees in front of Five with a soft grunt, and grabs him by the hips, relishing just how small his hips feel in his hands as he leans in to brush featherlight kisses across Five's throat. He might be complying, but he's going to be a fucking tease about it. They hadn't made any rules about that, after all. 

"Dad's probably rolling in his grave right now," he murmurs, biting and sucking Five's earlobe as his thumbs work circles into his brother's skinny hip bones. 

"Maybe if we're lucky, he'll drill through the Earth's crust and do us the favor of incinerating himself," Five says with absolutely no love in his tone as he leans back. His face is impassive as he watches Diego work. He wasn't stupid, he knew what the other man was trying to get him to do. He was trying to get Five pliant, trying to work him loose and open so that by the time he actually got to the moment of truth, he'd already be fit to bursting.

It wasn't going to work. Five called the shots here, and as long as Diego wanted to waste time? Five was actually more than happy to let him, content to let his brother explore to his heart's content. It didn't stop his cock from giving an interested twinge, though, or his skin from breaking out in oversensitive goosebumps. Fortunately, he's good at ignoring his more primal urges-- much better than Diego is, probably.

So for now, Five lets Diego tease, humming under his breath as he leans forward. It crowds Diego's teeth against his ear, but he doesn't mind the prickle of pain. Bringing the glass back with him, Five's legs spread as he clears his throat, "If you don't finish me off by the time I finish this drink, I'm going to take it as a loss," He says vaguely, looking sideways at Diego with a grin, his last-minute rule certainly upping the stakes.

"What? That's not part of the rules," Diego pulls back with a scowl, only to be met with a self-satisfied smirk from Five. He wants to argue it, but... if he lets Five set this rule, then that means _he_ gets to set arbitrary rules in the future so he grinds the heel of his hand against Five's cock through his shorts. "You son of a bitch." 

He stoops over, pulling Five's underwear down just far enough to free his cock. It bobs, half-hard and lazy into the air, and Diego catches it on his tongue. He doubts Five is going to chug that scotch, but he doesn't want to waste time and risk having to make some kind of announcement to the family that he lost a bet he made _yesterday_. So he opens his throat and sinks over him to the root, his nose burrowing in the folds of his shorts. And damn himself, but he groans indulgently as he does. 

He can't help himself, Five smells _immaculate_. There's the sharp sweet scent of laundry detergent, the crisp zing of the masculine bodywash and soaps that Five cleans himself with, and the salty tang of his own body, mixing into a heady cocktail that Diego breathes deeply as Five's silky skin glides across his tongue. 

Five sucks in a deep breath as Diego gets to work, his head tipping back against the chair. He's fortunate it doesn't smell like their father, at least, but he was so synthetic a man, who was to say if he ever held a genuine scent in his life? For all they knew, the man could have been made out of plastic and fiberglass, little more than a hologram-- It wasn't like they were ever allowed close enough to tell one way or another. 

The chair smells like leather, mostly. And, combined with the heavy plume of tobacco smoke that seemed fairly recent, no doubt an addition made by Klaus, Five can't help but sink further into the moment. His legs spready wide and his hips arch as he takes another drink, regarding Diego through heavy, half-lidded eyes. The scotch burns on the way down as his stomach does flips, igniting the first twist of pain deep in his belly and sending his hips to begin twitching. 

He watches Diego with all the smug pleasure of a sated cat, opposite hand settling in his hair and raking through his scalp, but not pulling, practically gentle in the gesture. With an inhale his chest hitches, and he clicks his tongue, taking another drink to feel the burn of it on his tongue.

Diego sucks Five to full hardness easily, his lips and tongue working together to plump him up, blood surging into his length to fill it out down Diego's throat, and as he works Diego reminds himself of exactly why he made this bet to begin with. It wasn't just out of a sense of pride, he really does love sucking dick. Well... Five's, anyway. He's not entirely sure how he would navigate someone like Luther or even Klaus at this stage-- the hargreeves boys had all been blessed in the anatomy department. 

He knows Five is bound to keep growing, but at this stage he's the perfect size to indulge in. He luxuriates in the feeling of Five's cock gliding across his tongue, grinding into his throat, filling his senses with his brother. He drops off his knees to sit directly on his ass on the floor, his legs spread and knees bent in a surprising display of flexibility, especially in pants as tight as he's wearing, and he fits his arms into the seat of the chair on either side of Five's hips, circling them around his back to cradle him as if he's something precious while plunging his mouth over his length. 

Five feels his gut plunge into his hips as Diego gets comfortable, that circle of warmth from his arms filling his chest with cotton and actually working to weaken his resolve. It takes him by surprise, how heavy the sentimentality of it strikes him, even as his cock continues to disappear into the warm, wet cavern of his throat.

Diego sucks Five like he's a treat to be savored, like sucking his cock wasn't a competition but a privilege, and he the lucky boy who got to experience it. It makes him jerk in that mouth, Diego's tongue grinding like silk against the head that throbs at the stimulus, leaking wet, salty precum like it was wrung from his balls. Scooting back in the chair and clutching at it for support, Five lets out a heavy breath, snorting to keep himself stable as his hand continues to pet reverently through his hair. The only indication to Diego that a job was being well done was the twitch of his fingers and the tightening of that hold, nails catching on his scalp.

Diego's blood rushes in his ears, the rest of the world dropping away. He forgets that they're in their father's study, desecrating his name and lewding on his furniture. He forgets that there's a competition between him and his brother, he even forgets that he technically has a time limit he's supposed to be accomplishing this by. He's just lost in the rhythm, dragging the suction-seal of his mouth over and over Five's cock, basking in the salt and weight of it against his tongue. 

He doesn't seem particularly hurried for a man who's supposed to finish Five in a certain amount of time, in fact he even pulls back just to pay special attention to the head, his eyes closed with a serene expression of reverence, brows furrowed ever so slightly as he twists his hand around the base to keep it wet and warm while his lips work over the sensitive cockhead, grinding it into the roof of his mouth and lavishing it with wet, sucking kisses. 

Five is in no rush-- he can't possibly be, with Diego taking his time like he is. A quiet, drawn-out moan rumbles from Five's chest as he leans and shifts in the chair, squirming on the seat as he keeps his thighs spread. Finally, his crisp, leather heel meets the desk behind Diego's head, and Five braces himself for control. He has to be able to control _something_ , if not the immediate feeling at hand, knowing Diego wasn't one to be dissuaded. His breaths are deep and trembling, a tremor working its way up his back and making Five's brain go fuzzy like static.

"Diego," He mutters, his voice a little breathless as he fits that same leg over the man's shoulder. He draws him in deeper, the hand against his head taking its time guiding Diego's head down, as if he needed the instruction. The fire of pleasure crackles and spits white-hot embers into his stomach, working its way like bubbles up his skin and raising goosebumps in their wake, "Jesus, _yes_ , that's incredible-- _fuck_ , Diego..." a litany of compliments bubbles from Five's lips as Diego sucks at his head, leaving it twitching after him every time he pulls away for even a second.

Diego can feel the slight tremor in those thighs, the way Five's cock bounces on his tongue as his balls clench and his pelvic floor flips. He knows he's not long off, because Diego has made absolutely no effort to pace himself or prolong this whatsoever-- and why should he? This isn't a precursor to something more, this is a blow for it's own sake. Pleasure for them both for the sake of it. Diego's own dick is throbbing in his pants, something he'll take care of on his own time. He won't let Five know just how hot this makes him-- he's smug enough without the help. 

He pulls Five's other knee up over his shoulder, taking the control back for himself by removing Five's leverage, and he holds those thighs against his shoulders with both hands, bobbing his head back down to the root when he's decided the head has received enough targeted torture, his cheeks burning with the pleasure of his hair being pulled, sending shivers all down his spine. With Five pinned against his shoulders, Diego swallows him down to the base, and then rather than pull back up, he just makes a fucking nest down there, breathing through his nose as he flexes his tongue and throat around Five's cock, effectively milking him. 

Immediately engulfed by the wet heat of his brother's mouth for a second time, Five can feel the sensation all the way to his core, his toes instinctually curling inside his shoes. He wonders if someone might actually come in this time: Unlike before, they were on the ground floor, in a popularly traversed area, during the middle of the day. If someone was going to interrupt their tryst, it would be this time-- but the thought only sought to burn a boiling hole in Five's gut, and his hips arch into Diego's mouth as his brother holds him down and sucks his cock like his life depended on it.

Tipping his head back, the tendon in Five's neck strains against his skin as he moans brokenly into the air, punctuating the terse silence with a sound that breaks in the middle. His drink is clutched in his opposite hand tightly, and the flush on his cheeks is a muddy mix of too high and bright to be entirely the liquor or arousal together. It made his head foggy, the scotch working to dull his senses and Diego working to heighten them. 

"Good boy," Five manages softly, a growl under his breath. His thighs are shaking now, the twitching constant, as a tremor works its way into Five's spine and stays there, "Fuck-- You're good at this, shit-- so fucking good, Diego-- you're so--" Another long moan cuts him off, short and muttered through clenched teeth, lest they disturb their siblings.

Practically sitting on his shoulders now, Five's hand digs into Diego's hair like it's trying to pull it out when he cums with barely a sound despite his mouth dropping open wide. Diego feels it jet across his tongue and gives a satisfied sound in his nose, slurping off to the tip to just torture that sensitive glans again, encouraging every last drop out of his brother that he can bare to wring out. 

And then all his muscles sag back into the chair, and Diego pulls off entirely, letting Five's cock flop wetly against his thigh. He doesn't get up and march off all self-satisfied like the last couple of times, he just looks up at Five with dark, smoky eyes, as if waiting for dismissal or praise. Honestly, Diego would do anything for more praise, hearing Five call him a _good boy_ released a truly embarrassing amount of seratonin through his body.

Clearing his sticky throat, he mutters, "Did you finish your drink?"

Five's mouth turns into a satisfied smile, holding up the glass in his hand and looking from it, to Diego. In all fairness, there was a substantial amount taken out of it, but there was still about a quarter of the glass left. Maybe less. "Look at that," He mutters, voice rough from misuse as he unclenches from Diego's hair and the same hand raises to drag through his own.

"Open," He mutters, waiting for Diego to open his mouth diligently before feeding him the last shot, to clear the cum from his throat. Leaning forward, he hums another, "Good boy," Before placing a sweet, sentimental kiss on Diego's forehead, a rare display of softness for a job solidly well done.

It's downright shameful, how soft that little kiss makes Diego. His eyes flutter and he has to completely reboot his brain from the tailspin of affectionate mush Five sent it into from that gesture alone. He licks his lips for any trace amounts of Five's flavor-- or the liquor, either one would do. 

"That's pretty good," he says, his voice utterly wrecked. Hearing his own hoarse voice come out of his well-used throat makes his stomach clench hotly. He needs to get somewhere private to beat one out as quickly as he can. He doesn't know how to extract himself gracefully from Five without him realizing just how hard Diego got from sucking his dick. He'll never hear the end of it. 

Five is still looking down at Diego with a pleased sense of contentment, and it admittedly takes him a minute to realize his brother's anguish. But this game wasn't for Diego to get off-- In fact, that was his cross to bear. So Five leans back fully in the chair, zipping his fly and buckling his belt, sighing as he pours himself another heavy glass of the stuff. 

Waving a hand to the door, Five nods, "You win this time. Go hump a pillow or something," He allows, not unkindly, before adding, "Unless you wanna bend me over dad's desk and go for round two," With a sly smile, Five looks up at Diego, meanly tempting himself with the one thing he couldn't have if he wanted to keep his ego intact.

Diego grumbles something hotly and unintelligibly as he stands up, disentangling himself from his brother and heading for the door with haste, eager to put distance between himself and the object of his temptation. He won this time, indeed. He'd show that little twerp. 


	3. Day Three

Diego _does_ show that little twerp, in spectacular fashion, if you were to ask him. He finds Five lurking through the halls in the middle of the night later that same day, as his brother often does when he can't sleep, prowling their home to make sure everyone was sleeping soundly and there was no hint of danger hiding around every corner. Diego could respect tha hypervigilance. He could also pin Five to the wall of the hallway with moonlight slanting across his body, and suck him until his knees nearly give out and he has to lock them just to stay standing. 

With the gauntlet officially thrown down, things really kick off from there. Five comes to wake him up the next morning, teleporting directly onto his chest and fucking his mouth before Diego was even coherent enough to really participate other than letting his throat go slack and sleepy for Five to use. 

Diego corners him after lunch, goading Five into throat-fucking him on his knees, and then by the time they pass dinner and close in on the time when all of those overblown rich people will be coming by to buy everything in their father's study, Diego's almost starting to regret this bet when Five tries to break him by fondling him from behind with the reminder that Diego _had_ said hand stuff was allowed. 

Was it foolish of him to make a sexual stamina bet with someone literally at the peak of their refractory period? Maybe. Three blow jobs in one day (and one teasing, attempted handy that Diego refused to succumb to) and his jaw is just ever so slightly starting to get sore. But Diego would sooner do jaw exercises than admit defeat after only two days of this. 

He has a mind to steer clear of the fancy people as they're given the tour of the house, the history of each room being rattled off by an enthusiastic Grace and Allison, talking about the 'hallowed halls' as if they didn't all grow up in hell inside every chamber. Five mills about in the way he always does, charming those who clearly don't know the Umbrella Academy personally enough to recognize him as the boy who'd gone missing 16 years ago, which only solidifies Five's confidence in bleeding them absolutely dry for every penny they'd give up for this soulless crap. If all they wanted was the status symbol for the sake of having it, Five would make them pay for it.

Just as they're about to get to the office, where the most time would be spent with the bidders perusing every object inside to decide what they wanted to bid on later after it's all wheeled out and offered up on platters one by one following the snack break (which Vanya has been getting increasingly proud of with every night that passes) Five is suddenly grabbed from behind at the back of the ground by strong arms that he recognizes in an instant-- else he would have teleported out of reach. 

Diego scoops Five right up off the ground under his knees and whirls him around, promptly carrying him away from the throng of rich people and back into the sitting room they'd just passed through, without a word. 

Thrashing and kicking, no matter how badly he wants to give Diego just that sort of hell, would only seek to draw attention to Five's predicament, and very likely embarrass the family name they were all working hard to preserve-- at least for a few more months, lest the cost of their wares decrease in notoriety. Right now people were paying top dollar for the bones of a school for gifted children. If that was turned into a horror story about the dangers of inter-child mingling and incestuous trysts, well. Allison would be pissed she would have to sell it all on Ebay like Diego had originally suggested.

So Five waits until they are at least out of earshot from the group before teleporting behind Diego and kicking him in the shin, making his legs buckle as he rounds around the larger man to look him in his face as he snarls, "What the fuck was that?"

Five's fists are clenched, stormy breaths leaving him like the panting of a bull as he glances over his shoulder to the study, where the sounds of camaraderie and laughter swell and mingle with the quiet jazz piped through the rest of the house. It was quiet, the music a carefully curated selection made by Allison herself, as if the particular genre of elevator music really changed whether or not people would buy their shit.

Diego whirls back around as soon as he has his feet back under him, and he plants both hands on Five's chest and shoves. He has the wind knocked out of him as he lands in an armchair, and Diego crawls on top of him, straddling his brother's slim hips in the stuffy, floral number. He dwarfs Five hilariously as he sits on him, cupping his hands around his jaw to lean down for a bruising kiss. 

When it breaks, leaving Diego panting, he drops his hands to Five's tie and pulls it undone so he can pop the buttons of his collar and get at his neck. This is so risky, his blood sings through his whole body, goose bumps raising on his arms and neck when a peel of laughter comes from the study, undoubtedly in response to a well-timed joke from Allison or Klaus. _Anyone_ could come around the corner, they could have forgotten something or needed the bathroom or just wanted to snoop-- and would catch what ostensibly looks like a full grown man laying into a little boy. 

It's not just risky socially, it's risky legally, and that makes Diego moan softly against Five's shoulder, curled up around him and blocking out all the light around him as he murmurs, "How quiet do you think you can be?"

Immediately and predictably, the mouth on his throat has Five's entire body throbbing in short order, the weight of Diego in his lap and those callous-rough hands grinding against his skin making goosebumps trail down his limbs and his head feel momentarily stupid. Five lingers in it for just a beat, allowing himself the slight admission of pleasure as he seeks to chase it, not appreciating Diego leaving just as the larger man had made Five feel wanting for the first time in the better part of a decade.

"Quiet enough," He mutters, leaning forward to press another hard kiss to his mouth, this time meeting those lips with his teeth and nipping, dragging, his hips raising to grind shallowly against the warm curve of Diego's ass that Five could feel even through their inconsiderate layers of clothing. He takes the advantage he has now to do just that, small hands landing on Diego's hips as his hips rock forward to rut against his brother. It as familiar from when they were children, at least, even if Diego is so much bigger now, and Five so much wiser. "How quiet can _you_ be?" He asks, smirking more to himself now as he guide's the man's hips down to meet his again, a promise of what they could be without the foreplay.

Diego indulges in the rutting, grinding his hips in surprisingly adept circles in Five's lap. For someone who, as far as Five knows, hasn't been fucked since leaving the family home twelve years ago at least, he certainly isn't shy whatsoever about the fervor of those hips. Confident as if he'd never stopped in a way Five knows for a fact he could never expect from someone like, say, Luther. 

"Not very," Diego growls into Five's mouth, panting as tongue meets tongue, and he muffles a groan by sealing his lips against his brother's and pouring it down his throat instead. His own dick jumps in his tight pants and he leans back away from the smaller man, grabbing the arm rests on either side of Five's hips to use as leverage to grind his hips down in a deeper, more insistent rut. "Maybe you can think of something to put in my mouth to keep me quiet."

The coyness is all for show, at this point. This will mark the sixth time he's gone down on Five in just three days, after all. But if they don't maintain the theatre of it all it'll just get _boring_. 

"Maybe," Five growls softly, his voice a breathy pant as his hips continue to snap forward into the grinding. He could get lost in this, it was dangerous-- in the apocalypse there was very little in terms of a warm body, and though he'd had Dolores, she wasn't someone he would subject to this for quite some time after meeting her-- so his puberty had been spent in the embrace of many a warm pillow. Compared to that, the curve of Diego's ass cradled his cock perfectly, and the deft way he moved his hips had so much promise in it, it took a vice-like grip to stop Five from flipping Diego over and drilling him into the floor. 

Instead, his hand goes to Diego's jaw, yanking the man down to look him in the eye as his hips arch and practically fuck into the dip between his cheeks, the thick cotton of their pants standing between them and completion, and thank god for that. Five doesn't break line of sight, doesn't dare, even as two of his fingers raise from Diego's skin to shove into his mouth, pressing back until he can feel the thick saliva at the back of his tongue. He fucks into that soft spot there as he raises and ruts against his brother, nostrils flaring as he stares him down. 

Only when his fingers are wet and slick does he pull away, a chord of saliva strung between them, "Why don't you suck daddy off," He sneers with a voice so bitter it would sound like hatred if they didn't both know any better. Smearing Diego's own saliva across his cheek, Five pushes the man down between his legs, leaning back in the recliner and spreading his thighs, curling one knee around Diego's shoulder-- because they both knew it was already going to end there.

That _definitely_ shouldn't have made Diego's stomach curl up in itself with heat, and it'll leave him with a lot of questions he'll have to think about later on. For now all he can muster is a hoarse, quiet, " _Jesus Christ_ ," as his knees hit the plush oriental carpet below the chair. 

Diego had always been a man who liked to skirt the line between legal and criminal, engaging in vigilante behavior that he definitely would jailed for if they ever caught him, just as a hobby. And this is no exception to that rule, as he pinches the tine of Five's belt clasp against the rim to keep it from jingling and alerting anyone two rooms over about what was happening right under their noses. 

He leaves Five dressed this time, just in case they have to make a really quick escape (although Five could just teleport away at any second and leave Diego trying to explain to whoever walked in on them why he was kneeling in front of an armchair) and dives in again with a mind for teasing. They can't stall for time too much here, this one has to be as quick as they can possibly make it so they can get done and get out before they're caught, but even so Diego can't help but curl his tongue underneath Five's cock to play with his balls. Though he'd never voice his opinion out loud and risk getting a slap in the face from Five, Diego thinks his balls are absolutely adorable-- hairless and smooth and pink. They won't stay like that forever, in fact they probably won't stay like that for _long_ , so he enjoys them while he can and sucks them into his mouth. 

"Ah," The surprised gasp leaves Five before he can stop it. But it's breathy, unvoiced, a breeze while the audience of curious elites mingle in the next room. No one to hear it, no more than they would hear someone sighing. His head tips back into the chair as he turns his face into the plush fabric of the recliner. This had already been sold, if the tag on it was to be believed, so Five had to make sure not to make a mess-- but a larger, more reckless side of him had his teeth sinking into the cloth, sharp enough that he can taste dust on his tongue.

He pants warmly into the recliner as his balls jump and tighten at Diego's mouth, and Five's cock jerks uncomfortably as it fills with blood, ignored and neglected. He can feel the pulse throbbing just under his skin, can feel his core tightening as he lurches and jumps with every swipe of Diego's tongue or draw of his breath over the sensitive skin, " _Time_ , Diego," He reminds with a voice so tight it sounds painful, and it has to be, with the amount of strain he was under trying to keep it even.

Diego's jaw aches already, but he finds that he kind of likes the tingle behind the corners as he pulls off of Five with a slightly wet pop as the suction is broken. He spits in his hand and works it between his thumb and palms to make sure his hand is wet before he closes it around Five's length for a few rough, twisting strokes, wrapping his mouth around the base of Five's cock like he means to bite it off, and he sucks him there hard enough to bring blood to the surface of his skin. He gives him a hickey on his cock with a smug smirk as he breaks away. 

"Yeah, I know," he hisses back, and spits on the head of Five's cock again to drag the saliva down along his length. "So you better get off quick, old man. If anyone sees us they'll call CPS." 

As if that wouldn't be entirely his fault. He opens his mouth and drops it over Five's wet cock, immediately setting into a rough pace. Five's cock isn't quite long enough for Diego to get at more than the head if he wraps the entirety of his hand around his length, so he just circles his pointer and middle finger around his girth to form a tight little circle that he moves up and down in time with the rapid clip of his mouth. He has absolutely no intention of taking it slow or easy, fucking Five with his mouth like his life depends on it. In a sense, it does.

Five hisses, short and abruptly cut off as Five clamps down on his own throat. He can feel his cock throbbing, can feel his entire body going tight and hot as his stomach clenches. Once Diego gets to work on him, it almost feels like too much, as if he were overwhelmed by something he had asked for; And he was. He knew they'd had to go fast, knew that this blowjob was a delicate matter of time and balance. No doubt the family would notice Five's absence, if the moguls he'd been schmoozing all night wouldn't.

A small hand finds Diego's hair, and while it doesn't card through or pull, Five tries to desperately guide the mouth around his cock, even as his calf and thigh tightens to draw him closer, the heel of his shoe digging into his shoulder. Normally he would try and be angry and domineering, try to put Diego in his place while the man was buried onto his cock to the root, but he really didn't seem to need to do it this time.

The pull of his cock is so hard he can feel his pulse throbbing in his dick, can feel his balls tightening by instinct; And when it comes it's with a stuttering snap of his hips and no warning, even with the ample opportunity, the head of his cock thrusting to grind against the hard roof of Diego's mouth, his head slipping back and into the warm, soft confines of his coat just long enough for Five to paint it with his cum, pouring his seed down Diego's throat with little more than a choked, painful whimper-- even as a peel of laughter raises from the other room and dots out his orgasm, as if on cue.

Even Diego is surprised by how quickly he's able to get Five off this time. He chokes slightly on it, swallowing hard before it has a chance to come up his nose, and holds his mouth down over him to the root to wait for him to twitch it out. Maybe it's the nearness to an entire group of people who could literally call the cops on them if they caught them in the act-- or maybe it's just because it's Five's sixth blow in three days, so he's getting progressively more sensitive. 

Whatever the case, Diego swallows like he's supposed to and he pulls off panting through his nose. He saves the last gulp for Five to watch when he sits up, his throat bobbing in a way that makes Five's brows furl a little in the middle, and Diego's belly flipflops at the little fluster he's able to pull out of his brother. As if he didn't just have him humping into his mouth seconds ago. 

Diego finds himself stupidly _disappointed_ by how fast it went this time. He knows he should take it as a mark of pride that he was able to bring Five off that fast, or at the very least be understanding that Five is in a hypersensitive adolescent body that's just clocked his third blowjob today, but he'd barely gotten into the rhythm of it-- and god damn it, he's helplessly horny for his brother. As if that's ever not been true. 

Kneeling up as another peel of laughter rings through the halls, Diego _knows_ he's pushing it, even as he hauls Five up under the armpits and flips him around onto his knees on the chair. His hand, still wet and sticky from his own saliva, wraps around Five's oversensitive, half-soft cock and sets into a brutal pace, the slap of his hand muffled by Five's shorts as he crowds up behind him and slots right up against his ass. If Five's allowed to tease him by grinding on his ass then he's absolutely allowed to return the favor. 

Hooking his mouth behind Five's ear he grumbles, "I want you to leave a stain on this chair-- whoever bought this old piece of shit's gonna get the genuine fucking article. If they wanted a piece of the academy they're sure as shit gonna get it."

"Diego--" Five bites back a half-wail as he finds himself suddenly pinned into the chair, his position of dominance once again reclaimed by Diego's fervor. His forehead is tucked into the thick fabric of the chair, his brother's body warm and hard behind him. He can feel Diego's cock bulging against his fly, can feel the heavy grind of it against his ass. His entire body replies in kind, clenching and baring, hole twitching around nothing and striking Five with a sudden, deep hunger.

All at once, Five seems to realize that this bet might actually be a problem for _him_ , too. 

Five's stomach churns pathetically as his exhausted cock gives another interested leap in Diego's hand, teenage hormones smacking into him far too quickly to be normal. Not for the first time, Five has to despise the cocktail of experimentation and fuckery that he'd put his body through, no doubt blaming his quick refractory on the Commission's work. Normally a good thing, but in this instance? Damning. He can feel his entire body surge with a heat that settles deep in his core, can feel the betrayal of his hips as he stutters and rocks them back into Diego's. 

Fingers sinking into the fabric of the chair, Five slams his eyes shut as he focuses on the fire boiling in his chest, static making goosebumps raise up his arms as he grinds his face in, for good measure, "Hungry today.... aren't we?" He pants through clenched teeth, body already coiled too-tight for speech.

"Ravenous," Diego replies, and sinks his teeth into Five's neck.

They're just _barely_ low enough for the mark he's about to leave behind to be covered by his collar. He forms a seal with his lips, his teeth dragging into flesh with the same passion as his hand stroking over Five's cock, and he has to practically swallow his own moans when he feels his brother's hips rut back against his own. It would be so easy to break the bet here, to fuck him right into the ugly brocade of this chair and simply take the loss-- but his pride would never allow it. 

Instead, he just grinds against him like he's hoping his dick will get a mind of its own and rip through his fly itself to fuck Five stupid. His hand twists quickly and without mercy, his fingers tight around his cock, almost so tight they're painful. He pulls away from Five's neck, satisfied with the cherry red mark he'd left behind, a pretty blotch in a ring of Diego's teeth, dark and prominent on Five's silky pale skin. 

"Better keep that tie tight," he growls into Five's ear. "Wouldn't want anyone to see that."

Five's lips curl in a cruel smirk as his body bows into a delicate 'U', as if yearning to continue that touch, the searing pain of Diego's mouth still burning deep in his chest, making him flutter and _hunger_.

"Maybe _you_ don't," Five purrs, his voice heavy, thick in his throat as he greedily grinds back against his brother. Maybe this was cheating. Maybe the rules were for blowjobs only, although Diego had specifically allowed hands. At the most they were taking liberties with the bet, but dear fucking god there as nothing quite as satisfying as rutting against his brother like a horny teenager, his hips snapping back, his chest expelling with quiet, panting gasps. 

His head ducks again, though, his mouth finding the seat and biting, hard enough that he can feel his canines puncture the thick fabric-- and Diego, looming over him, his body warm, his hips insistent, plowing into him like there was nothing between them at all. Five moans loud enough it shakes the chair, hungry and without abandon, damned be the people in the next room, damned be his goddamn pride.

Cock full now, Five can feel his gut clenching and twisting in time with Diego's hand, and feel the pre already dripping between Diego's fingers and filling the room with the slick, wet sound of skin on skin as Diego milks him, "Diego..." he wheezes, and almost sounds pained.

That moan was just a little bit too loud for comfort, so Diego clamps his big hand over Five's mouth, tugging his head back against his shoulder in the process. He has him pinned to his body, Five's arms shaking and barely supporting his own weight on his elbows, much less Diego's weight bearing down on him. If not for Diego's boot planted on the ground the chair would be rocking on its legs from the force of his rutting. 

He can feel Five leaking over his knuckles, and knows it won't be long. He scrapes his teeth over that bite mark again, muttering, "It would be so easy to fuck you right here, little man. It'd feel so fucking good-- how long can you hold out? Warp us upstairs and I'll fuck you facedown 'till you cry."

It's a blatant challenge, and a particularly coldblooded one since Five is already nearly out of his mind with ecstasy. It's unfair to pander to his animal hindbrain when it's currently piloting the ship, he knows-- but Five hasn't been exactly fair with him either. 

Spikes of pleasure run through Five at Diego's words, his promise. He wanted it-- _god_ , he wanted it. His body sang at the idea of it, clenched with anticipation of it. Every inch and pound of Five had braced for that promise, and he could count on one hand the number of times he'd felt this intensely about being fucked. 

Five's stomach clenches with warmth as Diego's hand continues to milk him dry, as teeth find skin and snag, his mouth covered by a calloused hand. He can smell him from here, sweat and musk and leather and oil, earthy and sharp, like the coppery tang of blood. Hunger consumes Five and he can barely hold on.

Thin fingers sink into Diego's arm holding him tight, nails digging into tanned skin, groaning heavily into his palm. There's a rush of air, the quiet warp of his powers-- but it's Diego's back that hits the mattress, Five landing heavily with knees on either side of his head.

" _Fuck you_ , Diego," Five grits, cock in hand, and cums across Diego's face and hair, that very same hand white-knuckled on the headboard above them, face twisted in a snarl.

Diego's hands come up to grab Five by the thighs, his mouth opening with a moan of surprise as stripes land across his cheeks and tongue. He closes his eye when one string makes contact with his eyelashes and settles across his eyelid. He's marginally disappointed that he hadn't successfully convinced Five to break the deal, but... this is a pretty good consolation prize. 

Closing his mouth and swallowing what landed on his tongue, he relaxes back against the covers, panting through his nose and gripping Five's slightly shuddering thighs tighter, despite the aching in his own cock begging for attention. Heaven help him, he's actually kind of starting to _like_ prolonging his own pleasure until his dick is hurting in his pants. 

"Satisfied?" he asks smugly, as cum seeps into his beard. 

Five looks down at Diego as he considers the question, tilting his head with a squint of his eyes as his breath catches in his chest. _Was_ he satisfied? Looking at Diego now, his cum shiny on his lips, over his eyes, across his cheeks.... no. He was not. Vaguely, he wondered if flipping the script and fucking Diego until _he_ cried would be considered defeat, but he was pretty sure it would be. The deal was no fucking. Even if his entire body begged for it. 

Unfortunate ego held in account, Five sighs as he lifts his leg, dragging it back over Diego's chest so he can stand, still watching his younger brother with an almost angry expression as he straightens his shirt and closes his fly, "I have old people to scam," he says, in lieu of an answer, "You can clean yourself up?" 

Five doesn't wait for Diego to answer before vanishing, walking back into the auction even as he tightens his tie. As much as he might not mind his siblings seeing his marks, it was probably best if the rich people downstairs... didn't.


	4. Day Four

Five finds satisfaction comes more from conquering than coming, and it's a lesson he takes to heart.

There's satisfaction in grinding his brother awake, straddling his hips and clad in only his dress shirt and tie. There's satisfaction in pressing his foot to Diego's across the dinner table while the rest of their siblings eat and talk about the auctions, about remodeling, about the fucking weather, and watching Diego force down food despite the lump in his throat-- and his pants. There's even satisfaction to be found in the way Diego corners him afterwards to pin him flush to the wall, growling demands with furious, righteous indignation heavy on his breath, palming Five through his shorts until he comes with a shout muffled only by the fingers Diego had shoved down his throat.

But so far, Diego had an outlet. One very specific time of the day where he got to get out of the house and make memories not involved in their little wager. He still fancied himself a vigilante, even after everything they'd done to build a normal life for themselves, and it was possibly the only escape keeping the older man sane throughout the entire bet-- and that just wasn't fair, was it?

So it was truly a magnanimous decision for Five to track down his brother one night after he'd left. It was an act of equilibrium, of balancing the scales. Five wasn't looking to cheat, wasn't looking to _get one up_ on his brother: but he'd certainly want to make sure they were both feeling the same strain, at least.

Diego spends his nights in alleys and rooftops, and is abysmally easy to track. Not everyone had every assassin in past or future history running through their veins, it was true, but Five couldn't help but wonder if he _did_ have ill intent, it would be so easy to find his brother's trail winding through the city. Like a slug leaving its slime to glisten in the moonlight, clear as day for any hungry predator that just might want an easy meal. Five wasn't in the market for easy, but his brother was certainly offering it as a perk.

As a gift, Five lets Diego chase down a few petty thefts, isolated incidents of law breaking that his chaotically-good moral code just couldn't allow. He stops a few purse thieves, beats down a couple of drug dealers messing with kids that looked too good, and even turns in what looks to be a _dog-flipper_ to the local authorities. Silently, of course, by hogtying the thief and leaving him deposited on a police station's steps like a gift pig. It was an impressive, if quiet, night for the vigilante, but perhaps he was owed that. After all, his night was about to get a lot less quiet.

There's a rush of air and a flash of blue as Five appears behind Diego as he crouches, hidden, behind a dumpster. He'd just finished detaining someone, there was no way he was on a fresh scent so soon, so he seemed to be crouching just to remain slightly out of sight to the street still hustling with tourists. This close to Time's Square always proved to be a lucrative spot for thieves and scammers to prey on those new to the city, who didn't know anything other than the bright lights and bold signs screamed their name. 

"Not a bad spot," Five says without warning or prelude, crouched next to his brother. He blinks away before the man can instinctually throw his punch, which he does without realizing who he was talking to. When Five reappears, he's a short distance away leaned across the brick wall of the alley, hands in his pockets, "Hello, Diego," He purrs, lips curled in a smile, "You busy?"

"Yeah, a little bit, actually," Diego says as he stands up, moodily adjusting the harness across his chest. It's perfectly straight, he just does it to give his hands something to fidget with. 

Just being in Five's presence these days is enough to fluster him, but getting out into the city every night has been a welcome reprieve from the heat that crowds into his head and chest every time he's at home, just waiting for the next time Five captures him like a springtrap. Not that he hasn't been having a good time, he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't-- but he also knows damn well that between the two of them, he has less self control. And Five knows it too. Which is why Diego _needs_ these nights off to keep it quite literally in his pants. 

And here Five is now, smug as anything in his stupid fucking uniform. A moment of worry cuts through the warmth as he realizes maybe this actually doesn't have anything to do with their bet-- maybe Five needs him for something. Maybe something went wrong back home. 

"Is everyone okay? Do I need to come home?" he asks in a hurry, feet shifting and crunching on the asphalt like he's already preparing to sprint back home. As if Five couldn't teleport them in an instant if they needed to get back to the house. 

It's almost sweet, Five thinks, the genuine sincerity in Diego's worried tone, the way his eyebrows scrunch together as soon as the thought occurred to him that this might not have been a social call. It was a familiar look, one each and every member of the Academy could lay claim to: even Vanya, for all she was new to her memory and new to the family, had developed a worried frown over the few short weeks they'd been back. It wasn't a good look, but it was touching.

Not that it had any place in the current conversation, and Five's relaxed shrug was indication of that, as he looks up at the starless night sky and squints to find even a blip of light that was created by something other than a plane or passing satellite. No luck. 

"Thought I should get out, its been a while," Five admits, and it truly had been. Taking to the streets as a child was a risky gambit. Police officers looking for an easy ticket, thugs looking for an easy mark-- even just concerned fucking citizens could make his life Hell, calling the wrong people and reporting a school boy walking the dark streets of New York alone.

Turning back to Diego, Five smiles again, and this time it's just a little mean in a way Diego has grown all too accustomed to seeing, "But since we're here..." He says, paying absolutely no mind to the tourists still walking just ten feet away past the mouth of the alley, where lights made it look like day, and obscured them in shadow. There's the metallic ting of his belt buckle as he tugs it free, eyebrow raising, "You might as well let me cum down your throat."

"Jesus christ, _here?"_ Diego hisses, even as his stomach clenches with heat. He knows goddamn well that he can't really protest without admitting defeat to the entire bet, but it if this isn't toeing the line he doesn't know what would. Just watching Five undo his belt is enough to make his knees feel weak, and he clenches his fists angrily at his side. Angry at _himself_ for being so fucking easy. 

Five's smile grows. It really isn't a nice look, like a predator looking at a hurt fawn, "Diego," He says, gasping with mock shock and leaning forward, hand still on his belt, "Are you saying _no?"_ He knows he wouldn't. Not at this. Not unless something were to spook him. After all, deep down Diego had to know Five wouldn't jeopardize the family, even for a bet. But he did want his dick sucked, and it had to be here.

"Mother _fucker_ ," Diego hisses, looking up and down the alley. _No_ , he's not going to say no, and Five fucking knows that, the smug bastard. Not only because he doesn't want to lose the bet, but god damn if the idea of getting throat fucked in a dirty alley way surrounded by tourists doesn't make him feel absolutely weak for his brother. He grabs the handle of the dumpster and with a heaving screech that has a couple people glancing briefly down the alley, he yanks it out away from the wall by a couple feet, affording them with just a little bit more privacy. 

He drops to his knees behind the dumpster, planting his feet flat against the ground so he can push off at a dead sprint if he has to for whatever reason, and then he grabs Five by the front of his sweater, yanking him closer. 

"I'm gonna wind up in fucking prison by the end of this," he growls, pulling Five's belt the rest of the way open. 

"Look on the bright side," Five says, sighing as he tugs his pants down just past his hips, his cock already half-hard and eagerly warming the longer they stay in the filthy alley, with his brother on his knees in the dirt beside him, "Maybe you'll be able to make friends with the other whores who ended up there for being on their knees." 

His words are unkind, but the hand settling in Diego's hair is almost gentle. There would be time for rough, he had no doubt-- Five had every intention of claiming his throat tonight, even if it took a couple of rounds to get there. His gut was already on fire, his head already swimming from the conceited pleasure that came from Diego's immediate subservience. Before Diego can get his mouth on him, though, Five gently pulls his hair, urging the elder's chin up, dark eyes meeting green, "Or maybe I'll tell the cops how good you are and they'd let you off with a warning in exchange for some proof. Would you like that?" 

It's fantasy, all of it. Five had not suffered for a lifetime to share in the home stretch, but Five had to revel in the idea of it; Diego spent and on his knees was quickly becoming Five's favorite way to see him.

"Shut up," Diego grits out, already panting through his nose despite the fact that they haven't even started yet. His heart is already pounding, adrenaline already making him quiver, hyper aware of the people walking by a scant dozen feet away. They can probably even see the top of Five's head over the dumpster, he can only hope that they'll assume he's taking a piss and walk on by. If there's one thing he's learned from people watching over the years during his vigilante gig, it's that most people tend to do everything in their power to keep their nose out of other people's business. 

He grabs Five by the hips and yanks him in closer so he can get his mouth around him. There's a part of him that's ashamed as he slots Five's cock to the back of his throat, chiding him for falling for this so easily. If there was any reason Diego should have felt comfortable calling off the bet for, it should have been his solemn duty to keeping the general public safe. After all, what if someone gets mugged and he could have been there to stop it, but he was too busy with his brother's dick in his mouth?

The thoughts don't last long, though. Five has a talent for turning off the part of his brain that thinks in words and makes rational choices. Already he can feel himself transforming into a creature of instinct and pleasure, his ears peeled for any sound of someone approaching and his body primed for a fight, but otherwise willingly taking Five into his mouth as deep as he'll go. 

The sound that leaves Five's throat is almost relieved as his head tips back against the bricks. Opposed to his brother, who seems coiled and tight with the absolute need to be prepared for anything, Five seems almost lazy. He doesn't need to prime himself to prepare for the worst, doesn't need to 'anticipate' disaster striking to be ready for it. He knew the city, knew the people in this part of the town-- they wouldn't dare risk skulking down mysterious alleyways, not when it was clearly already occupied by shady figures, for no doubt nefarious deeds.

Was this nefarious, though? It certainly didn't feel it. A pleased rumble leaves Five's throat and chest as his cock slowly swells in his brother's mouth, tongue and teeth sucking and scraping until he's hard and twitching. It takes an embarrassingly short time, nothing like the effort Diego had to put forth in the beginning, before Five was four days of torment deep and impatient with hunger. The fingers in his hair tighten, snagging on the tight bun and fisting around the elastic; a perfect little handle for while Five could grab ahold of and yank.

"There you go," Five purrs almost adoringly, definitely _approvingly_ , humming deep in his chest, "You're such a fucking slut for this, aren't you? Want my cock so bad you'll take it in a filthy alley," He laughs, tongue dragging across his lower lip as his hips stutter, a few shallow thrusts dragging the head of his cock against the rough roof of Diego's mouth, "How hard are you right now? On your fucking knees--" His hips thrust again, quicker now, demanding more. "You're pathetic, Diego-- mouth's the best... fucking thing about you..."

Diego's face burns across his cheeks and out to his ears-- because it's fucking true. He's aching in his own pants, just like he has been every time he's gone down on Five over the past four days. His body is begging for it, desperate to throw down and end the bet-- but he won't lose that easily. Not that any part of this is easy, having Five lord over him every fucking day over the past week has put Diego in a funny headspace. 

Not an unpleasant one, just... nostalgic. Nostalgic for when they were kids, and Diego had little going on in his life except figuring out how to beat his stutter and competing with Luther. Back when things were simple and he didn't have to fight so hard with himself to enjoy a little bit of fucking intimacy. When he gladly would let Five make him feel submissive without such a _battle_ over it. If there ever was a fight, it was for the primal, instinctive pleasure of the fight itself-- now it's a matter of pride, of dignity, things Diego didn't worry about as a child. He doesn't know if they could ever get back to that at this age-- but this is certainly the next best thing. 

Giving up on his pride, seeing as he's already on his knees being throat fucked like a prostitute, Diego pops the buckle on his belt. It isn't the shiny metal thing that Five wears, it's a loud plastic click that he doesn't even try to muffle or hide. There's no point, Five would tease him whether he touches himself or doesn't, and god help him but he wants Five to be mean to him. He wants to shut off the rest of his brain and just focus on the way his throat opens to accept his brother's length. He opens his zipper with an audible noise, then pulls away for just one second, to spit into his hand, before diving back in to swallow Five to the root. He pulls his underwear down so his cock can spring out, and wraps his wet hand around it, stroking it in time with the thrust of Five's hips. 

Just the act of Diego desperately palming himself is enough to make Five moan, head grinding against the uneven surface of the brickwork behind him, "Jesus, Diego, you really are desperate," He says, breathlessly laughing as he his hips stutter forward and urge his cock deeper, twitching hungrily in his mouth, "Can't fucking wait until I finish? Don't I deserve all of your attention?" If Five were anyone else, he might have been sincerely offended at the diversion of touch from himself. But as it was, he reveled in the opportunity to cut his brother down to size.

"Open your throat," Five growls and pulls Diego's head to him again, "Don't you _dare_ cum before I give you permission, and if you need to say something, pat my thigh," It's surprising how sincere the content of his words were, boundaries of the game laid before they played it, but it was only the fair and right thing to do. Especially because shortly afterward, a second hand joins Five's first, and he buries Diego's head into his crotch, until Five can feel his brother's nose crushed into the smooth skin at his base. Holding his head in place, Five's hips continue the work, thrusting deeper even as his cock hits the plush, wet back of Diego's throat and goes beyond his tonsils, until he can feel the muscle of his throat clutching and gripping at him-- desperate, fluttering, uncontrollable.

Settled to the root and grinding in to prove the point, Five waits until he can hear Diego's hand moving in time before he continues his relentless pace, heavy strokes hitting deep into the plush warmth of his throat. All at once Five pulls away to let Diego breathe, cock glistening with saliva, Diego's mouth wet and plump from the abuse he endures, "How's it feel, Diego? Made a bitch by your little brother. You know how sad you look here? But you're right at home, aren't you? Say it," Five's fingers twist in Diego's hair, "Say you like being on your fucking knees in an alley. Say you want me to keep fucking your throat." Something burns in Five, an all-consuming hunger he hadn't felt in years. He needs to hear it.

"Fuck--" Diego's voice is thick, his throat slack and wet, and his hand hits the wall behind Five to keep him from just falling over. He's dizzy with pleasure, not just from the pulling of his own hand over his cock, but also from Five's hands in his hair. Pulled into a tight bun as it is, it doesn't exactly afford Five with the most thorough grip he could have. Sure, it gives him a nice handle to grip, but only one hand can make use of it. 

Face burning, Diego reaches up to grab the elastic holding his hair back, and tugs it free. His hair comes loose around Five's hands, and he loops the band around his wrist, glaring up even as he gives silent consent for Five to grab him by the scalp and face fuck him stupid. 

"You're a smug bastard, you know that?" he grouses, clearing his throat. "Not enough to fuck my mouth, you wanna hear me wax poetry about it?" He'll give in, they both know he will. But having that resistance broken down is part of the fun, for Diego. 

Hands find hair, fingers twisting in the strands and nails catching on Diego's scalp as Five twists and yanks the younger man in, "I gave you an instruction, Diego," He hisses, voice simpering and quiet, "Do you need me to repeat myself?" He would, too, if it helped. There was something filthy about feeling those words on his tongue, uttering them despite his age, _knowing_ how they effected his brother. Five pulls Diego up so tightly he can feel his hair groaning under the pressure, bending in half and grinding his cock against the rough stubble on Diego's cheek. 

"Say you're my fucking whore, Diego," Five's voice is a near whisper, broken only by the soundtrack of the city, the distant honking and shrieks of tires on pavement, "Admit there's nowhere else you'd rather be than right.... here," Five's hand on his cock, he drags the weeping head still wet with saliva across Diego's face, painting a thin line of cum and spit across the bridge of his nose, his forehead. 

Five's nostrils flare as he looks down at Diego, pulling his head in to fuck his mouth shallowly, head catching Diego's cheek until it bulges lewdly and he can see himself imprinted in the skin. He pulls away before Diego can get any real satisfaction from it, though, "Admit it, and I can go back to what you _really_ need." 

There would be a kind of satisfaction in walking away right now, forfeiting the bet and keeping some measure of his dignity intact-- but that satisfaction would be fleeting and unrewarding, compared to how it would feel to get Five to crack. And besides that, it would be a blatant lie to pretend Five's words weren't actively making him pant and sweat, hunched on his knees as he is. He knows this is the fight he gets into with himself, between his pride and his desire. He grabs the idea that has always festered in his head that no matter what he loses, and shakes it with both hands. 

There's not _really_ any losing state with Five. Sure, if he lost the bet Five would make fun of him, he'd be insufferably smug about it-- but at the end of the day, they would still kill and die for each other. It's all a game, and one that Diego is determined to play. He sets aside embarrassment and petty pissing contests, and just gives himself what he wants, for once. 

"You wanna hear me say it?" he grumbles, his face burning and neck tingling from the strength of Five's fingers in his hair. "You wanna hear me tell you I like your cock in my throat? You already know that, you son of a bitch. I started this bet because I'm such a slut for you-- you need the reminder? Are you having that hard a time keeping it up, old man?"

Anger bubbles in Five's chest, frustration at this little game of coy Diego was playing. He wanted to fuck his throat already, wanted to give in to his own carnal hunger gnawing at him like a ravenous beast. But he couldn't, not until Diego gave in. Not until Diego did what he wanted and got off while doing it. Pulling Diego's head back, Five crouches to the balls of his feet, until he's low enough to look him directly in the eye.

From here Diego can see how dark those usually-electric green eyes were, how furious and blazing, deepened with his irises blown entirely out. Diego can see the hunger in them, can see the flush on Five's face that had been obscured by the shadow of the alleyway, "I'm going to ask you this one more time, Diego," Five says, his voice barely above a whisper. The hand in his hair doesn't relent, and he yanks Diego's greedy hand from its furious pace stroking himself.

It's with a scorching look that Five meets Diego's gaze again, and this time he doesn't relent. There's the grind of gravel in the alleyway, the grit of dirt beneath a booted heel, and Five's knee takes the place of Diego's hand, a heavy, unforgiving weight digging into the heft of his cock. 

Five's words are a snap, sharp like teeth, "Tell me how much you like my cock in your mouth. Sell it to me."

"Fuck--!" Diego's teeth grit shut and he only barely resist the urge to grind forward against Five's knee, but his hips and thighs shake for the effort. The hand in his hair is really doing him in, the pressure tingling all down his neck and back and making it hard for him to even gather enough brain power to respond in words. He wants to moan, wants to rut against Five's knee with his balls drawn up tight-- but he has to keep quiet. They could still get caught. 

Swallowing hard, Diego's throat bobs and his dark eyes flutter closed for just a moment, luxuriating in the feeling of his hair being pulled. There's a reason he always kept it short-- really, he's giving Five an unfair advantage, wearing it long. It's so easy to turn him to putty just with a hand in his hair. 

"Five, come on," his voice goes hoarse, his hips jerking forward to grind against Five's knee as his pride begins to peel away, layer by layer. "Let me suck you, we can't stay here forever-- I want it, that's what you want me to say? I want you to fuck my throat, I wanna feel you cum, let me do it, let me suck you-- fuck, _please_ \--"

"Good boy," Five whispers the praise like a spell, and the hand buried in Diego's hair releases altogether, in unison with the knee lifting from his cock. Two firm hands find the larger man's shoulders, and in a surprising feat of strength, Five twists them both until Diego's back slams against the brick, sunk low onto his haunches. Just outside the alley, a large crowd of what must have been theatre-goers passes, laughing and talking with an inebriated lilt. 

Five wanted to take his time to savor this moment, wanted to take the opportunity to watch Diego lose himself. Unfortunately-- or maybe not-- Five has lost himself, just a bit too much for patience. Instead, a hard hand laces into Diego's hair with a growling grunt of, "Open," The only warning Diego has to prepare himself.

And then Five crowds his space and throws his cock into Diego's mouth to the hilt, the hand on his head holding him steady as he buries himself down Diego's throat. Five takes the time to grind into his tongue, into his soft palate, the spots he knows make Diego clench and sputter, until he can feel every muscle in Diego's throat constricting to try and expel the intrusion. He doesn't relent. He doesn't withdraw. Five pulls out just enough for Diego to suck in a breath, and with another snap of his hips he begins to fuck Diego's throat in hungry, carnal earnest, the hand in his hair holding the man steady, lest he hurt himself against the brick he was now pinned against.

Diego's eyes droop half-lidded as a satisfied shudder goes through his body. His throat goes slack and soft for Five, saliva slipping down his chin as he goes downright sloppy for the older man. Pants open, he fists his cock with both hands now, one twisting around the base and the other stroking over the length, his pace matching the brutal snap of Five's hips. 

Between the praise, the pleasure and the hands in his hair, Diego is practically unconscious. His mind has officially disconnected from his body, buzzing in a pleasant state of dissociation. Vaguely he remembers that he's not supposed to cum until Five gives him permission, but his hands are moving almost mechanically over his own cock as he swallows around Five's. 

When he'd cast this bet, it was his plan to make _Five_ weak with need-- but surely enjoying the competition wasn't grounds for losing it. Maybe Diego underestimated just how weak he was for his brother. 

Five's other arm raises to lean against the brick, cocooning them in in shadow as he presses his forehead to his wrist. It makes their sounds echo, quiet as they are, in the hollow space between them. The wet slick of Diego's throat, the muffled groaning reverberating from his chest-- and above them, Five's own hot, breathy pants as he drives into Diego's throat again, and again. The hand in his hair is relentless, his knuckles white amongst the coarse waves marred by gel and sweat.

"That's it, that's it, Diego-- _shit_ , yes-- milk yourself for me. Cum in your hand for me-- cum with my fucking dick in your throat," The words dribble from Five's lips even as the taste of precum fills Diego's mouth, salty and strong. With a shift of Five's hips, the hand holding his head turns into a cradle, and Diego can feel Five's cock bury deep into his throat. 

Five's thrusts are deep if short as his throat is claimed. There's no movement allowed, no air able to pass, and as Five buries Diego's head into his hips, he cums, pouring himself down Diego's throat without a single word of warning, and only a quiet, animalistic grunt to mark it. Diego's throat clicks wetly as his eyes roll back and shut, and while Five's thighs shudder around his head, Diego's brain turns to pudding as his own pleasure reaches its peak. 

He swallows, thick and messy as he cums through his own fingers, his seed landing in heavy stripes across the pavement. He feels debauched, used and wrung out, cumming like his life fucking depended on it from the pleasure of being throat fucked against a brick wall. It's gotta be a new low for him-- but even that makes his stomach boil. 

When Five pulls away, Diego swallows thickly several times to clear his throat. His chin is wet, his beard soaked with saliva and cum, and his eyes are glassy and vacant as they stare adoringly up at Five, with a fucked-out, hoarse, "Good."

Five leans heavily against the wall, panting with ragged, heavy pulls as he looks down at his brother, the mess he'd made of his younger sibling. He laughs, just a little bit breathlessly at the single word that breaks the silence. _Good_. An understatement, but frankly? He couldn't think of anything better, right now.

"Yeah," Five agrees, his voice hoarse as he lets himself melt into his own arm, "Really good." 

Dragging his tongue over his lip, Five looks down at Diego, softness spreading where carnal dominance had made him cruel. It feels mean in a way that isn't fun, to think of leaving him on the street after the place he'd just put him in, and he can't imagine him going back to fight crime like this. Not without careful supervision, at least. The silence that hangs between them is sated and comfortable, despite the dumpster and the alleyway debris.

Clearing his own throat of gravel and grit, Five's hand drifts to pass adoringly through Diego's hair. Sure, this was for the bet, but the bet had been born from _actual_ adoration and love, so he didn't find it hard to break character to show Diego some softness. After a performance like that he certainly deserved it.

"Can I take you home?" Five asks, glancing up at the alleyway entrance reluctantly.

"Home," Diego agrees. It's already close to four in the morning, and he finds a bone-deep tiredness sinking into his body, satisfied at a job well done-- both from his typical justice, and now this. He's done enough for the night, and right now all he wants to do is burrow into his bed and shut off for a few hours.

"Yeah, sure," Five murmurs, and straightens up to tuck himself back into his pants, not bothering to rebuckle his belt. He doesn't bother letting Diego clean himself up, either.

It wouldn't matter in a bit, anyway, as Five places his hands on Diego's shoulders protectively, a cold rush of air envelops them, and they land comfortably on Diego's bed, debauched and exhausted.

Diego drifts in and out of a comfortable doze as Five bustles around him, cleaning his face and helping him out of his many harnesses and straps holding his equipment. He's barely conscious by the time Five is tucking him under the covers in naught but his undershirt and boxer-briefs, but he's just awake enough to return a kiss that Five bestows him before he warps out of the room to let Diego sleep.


	5. Day Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Vanya
> 
> somnophilia, in a sense. dubious consent, but it's all okay in the end
> 
> just as a warning, so you aren't taken off guard. in case you didn't read the previous installment of this series (Five's Big Day) this is taking place in a poly hargreeves au

A hand on the back of Five's neck, pinning him face down to the bed, hips snapping down against him, buried to the root-- it was worth it to break the bet, worth it to bury himself inside Five after days of waiting, days of wanting and wringing one out desperately in the shower between blows. And all it took was dropping his defenses, letting someone else win for once. This is what he wanted, and he could have had it so much earlier if he'd just--

Diego's eyes snap open with a groan. Disoriented and confused, he nearly rolls right out of his bed, barely catching himself on the edge and rolling over onto his back. A fucking wet dream, _again_. He's had one every night this week, coaxing him and tormenting him, as if even his subconscious was trying to convince him to break. His dick is aching hard in his underwear, and he shoves them around his thighs, licking his palm to beat a frantic orgasm out. It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time to do so. 

He jumps in the shower to try and clean off some of the stink of last night, his mind abuzz from that moment they'd shared in the alley. Five had been surprisingly gentle with him after he realized the drop he put Diego through-- a drop the likes of which Diego hasn't felt in years. The back of his head still feels fuzzy and soft just remembering it. For all that Diego held tightly to his masculine pride, he shamefully hasn't ever felt quite as good as with Five looming over him. He didn't expect that this experience would make him _learn_ things about himself. 

As he steps out of the bathroom he realizes that he's awake earlier than usual. It's barely seven in the morning, which means he only got a crisp four hours-- awoken rudely by his sex dream. It'll take him a little bit to get tired enough to sleep again, so he decides to wander the halls to hopefully tire himself back out. 

He barely makes it to the end of the hall of bedrooms when he hears a soft noise come from behind Vanya's door. He wouldn't have thought anything of it as he passed the room by, but it's followed by the creaking of a bed, and Diego realizes with a start exactly what that quiet noise had been. It was the sound of Five groaning-- accompanied by bedsprings. That little shit is working a loophole in the bet by fucking _someone else?_ Oh, that shrimp is gonna get it. 

Opening the door as quietly as possible, determined to catch them in the act, Diego steps barefoot and silent into the room, expecting to see Vanya underneath their brother-- but instead he sees her blissfully asleep, curled up facing the wall, while Five is on his back on the other side of the bed, brow furrowed and dick visibly tented through the sheets draped over him. It seems as though Diego isn't the only one who's been having dreams, and the thought of that is oddly comforting. Seeing a bit of Five's humanity make it through the cracks in his veneer spreads a warmth through his chest.

He should probably just back out and let Five twist in the wind, but as he takes a step back the thought occurs to him that this would be the best way for him to get back at Five for last night. His brother had shown up to take what was sacred to Diego, laying claim to the only time he could have reliably assumed he'd be out of bounds for the bet-- and now he would return the favor. Padding silently across the floor, he carefully leans a knee on the mattress. He has a bit more leeway than usual, Five's hypervigilance usually making him a light sleeper, and he glances over at Vanya to make sure she's still asleep before he gently pulls the waistband of Five's underwear down under his dick, and bends down to take it into his mouth. 

The noise Five wakes up with is a strangled half-groan that speaks volumes about just how often these dreams had been occurring, and Five's hips immediately snap forward, even as his eyes snap open. There's a fizzle of air, the static crackle of half-discharged power that surges around them, causing Vanya's hair to flutter and wave as if in a breeze, and it seems Five all at once realizes where he is, who he's with, and who he's with. 

Immediately he pushes himself onto his elbows, wide, blown-out eyes forcing himself upright to stare down at his hungry brother with something akin to hunger, himself. He looks agonized, torn, a million things on his lips to say or react to, but only coming to one stupid, unbelievable conclusion, " _Diego_." 

There's so many layers in that word. Condemnation for their surroundings, incredulity at his audacity, hunger for the mouth currently wrapped around him like plush, warm silk. Diego's tongue drags roughly against the heavy vein along the underside of his cock, making his entire member jerk, his head glistening with the first, desperate beads of precum. Five's cheeks had been red from his dream, his breathing erratic and uneven before Diego had even entered the room, but now it was deep in a different way, the forced calm of someone with consciousness. 

"Vanya--" He starts to admonish, but with a twist of Diego's hand is effectively silenced, his entire body lurching forward as he presses the heel of his hand to his mouth and bites, sharp incisors sinking into his palm as he barely manages to stifle a pained moan.

Vanya gives a soft hum, shuffling a bit in her sleep, and for a moment it seems like she'll wake up-- but she just curls up in a tighter ball on her side, dragging some of the sheets over with her. Dead to the world still, and all the better for Diego's purposes. He gives Five an incredibly smug look with just his eyes, as if to say _How do you like it?_

He pulls off briefly, replacing his mouth with his hand, and he lifts his other hand up to press a finger to his lips in the universal _shhh_ sign, right before rubbing his thumb roughly over Five's cockhead. He isn't gentle about it, grinding his thumb in quick little circles as he stoops his head down to mouth wet kisses up along the length. He does his best to keep quiet too, making as few noisy kissing sounds as he can, keeping his mouth soft and never forming too much of a suction seal that would be noisy to break. 

Unfortunately that means his ministrations are all feather-light, save for that relentless thumb, barely a whisper of lips and tongue against his skin, even as he runs his teeth over the hickey that's still yet to fade on the base of Five's cock. 

"Did she get to see this?" Diego whispers, running his tongue over the red spot and smirking up at Five. 

Five's glare tells Diego all he really needs to know in answer to such a patronizing question, and his hips stutter forward into the man's palm as his carefully-founded control falters. He can't help himself, sleep and sexual exhaustion making even the reinforced iron of Five's willpower slip. He wants more, his stomach burns and clenches for more, _more_ , an uncontrollable need he can't sustain.

"We just-- slept," Five whispers, and his voice is ragged once he gets it out, no doubt residual pain from the clenched-jaw moaning he'd been uttering when Diego had arrived.

Diego didn't have to know that Five had worked Vanya to sleep with his tongue and his hands, especially not when it had ended in her sleepily pawing at him and him encouraging her to bed anyway, leaving him hard and unsatisfied after a job well done. Really, this was basically karma, _good_ karma, too, right? 

It was hard to feel that way, though, when Diego's breath was ghosting over his cock, making it jerk and twitch painfully in his palm. It was hard to feel anything other than agony and the white-hot tingle of pleasure mixed with pain that cut through any rational thought Five could piece together. Even the overwhelming pleasure of fucking Diego's throat was easier than this, easier to control, to manage. This? This was just agony.

"That's a shame," Diego whispers back, fucking his hand over Five's cock in quick little strokes. God how he wants to go further, to wet his fingers and press them into his brother-- it would be so easy to, and he _knows_ Five would relent and let it happen, he's just as pent up as Diego is, even with Vanya laying right there. His dream flashes into the forefront of his mind again, half-baked memories of pinning Five down face-first, grinding his face into the mattress and nailing him from behind-- 

He has to shake his head to scatter his thoughts before they get the best of him, sliding his hand up Five's thigh instead, and he lowers his head to suck and kiss at just the head of Five's cock, torturing him with the lightest of suctions that he can get away with, without making enough noise to wake up Vanya. He can feel Five's thighs tremble with the effort to not rut up into Diego's mouth in a move that certainly _would_ rouse her when the mattress started to rock, and he pulls away again just to torture him with a handful more light kisses. 

"You could give her one to match," he grins up at Five like a cat, spitting on the head of his cock and dragging it down his length, making the glide that much silkier. "Right on her pussy."

Five's head quickly snaps to Vanya at his side as his stomach clenches and unclenches hotly. His tongue drags over his lower lip, teeth following to bite as he stares at their sister for a minute or two longer than necessary. His eyes dip down the slim line of her sleeping body, covered entirely by the blanket as she was. He didn't need a visual to know what Diego was proposing, to visualize what he was proposing, and in this moment he wanted nothing more than to bury his face between her legs and feel her shudder around him, in the same way he was shuddering around Diego.

Instead he turns spitefully back to his brother, indignant and furious as his hand raises to finally fit into his hair, "Shut up," He whispers through grit teeth, barely voicing his words lest he wake the sleeping beauty next to them, " _Suck_." Clipped as ever, he doesn't really need words when he speaks so much in his actions. 

Hips raising, fingers twisting, Five aims his cock for Diego's mouth and lets his thighs do the work of twitching himself forward, aiming to sink into his fist or his mouth, whichever Diego would grace him with feeling-- But he was getting impatient, and it showed, his breathing erratic, quiet only by sheer force of will.

Diego tortures him for just a moment longer with his tender kisses before he opens his mouth and closes his eyes and lowers his throat over Five. Except where Five has anticipated the rough pace of Diego trying to get him off quickly that's come to be their norm over the past week, instead Diego moves at a snail's pace this time. 

It makes sense, with Vanya sleeping less than three feet away from them, just like his iron grip on Five's hips make sense. If either of them rock too violently it'd wake her up, but the sluggish drag of Diego's mouth over Five's cock is pure agony, nothing less. Diego's eyes are closed in concentration, the suction of his mouth sealed tightly around his length, and he does his best not to make a sound as he bobs his head in slow, rhythmic pulses. 

Again, his fingers twitch, desperate to bury into Five. He smells sweet and musky with sleep, his skin is so warm, it would be so easy. Diego is embarrassed by how quickly he can feel his resolve shattering.

Any fight that Five might have had crumbles and turns to ash in his mouth as his back hits the bed with a quiet 'oomph', his weight heavy as he buries his hand in Diego's hair and pulls him hungrily in deeper. Even still, Diego resists and sinks down onto him with horrible slowness, and Five can do nothing more than clutch and grasp, desperate and hungry and wanting more without being given it.

His opposite hand raises to press into his forehead, his eye, and he presses until he sees stars and flashes of color, anything to distract him from the terrible tedium of Diego's mouth working against him. His belly jumps and twitches, his thighs shake, and Five's nails catch in the fringe of his own messy hair as he bites back the burning indignity of tears as they threaten to spike from his eyes. Pathetic, he knew, writhing and twisting even as Diego holds him in place, but he's been strung out for what feels like hours now.

Five can feel his cock twitching on Diego's tongue, and his legs spread, knees raising and feet planting in the covers to give him more leverage to lift up and fuck into Diego's mouth without changing how much weight is on the bed too much-- And even so, his knees shake in the air, a slight tremor as Five watches Diego through half-lidded eyes.

Diego's eyes open to glance up at Five, through hooded eyes and dark lashes, just taking in the length of his body. He catalogues the way his muscles bunch and flex under his pale skin, the way his belly flutters with pleasure he can't risk chasing with anything approaching the intensity he wants. The tendons in his neck stand out and the flush creeps down from his face to his throat and chest, bright and hot all the way down. His ribs stand out, skinny and pinched when he sucks in deep breaths and his back arches-- he's downright fucking beautiful and god help him, Diego is so soft. 

He pulls off of Five entirely, earning him a choked and bitten sound from the older man, and replaces it with his hand. He strokes him slowly with a twist of his wrist on every pull, leaning up on his elbow and peppering kisses up his belly. 

"Tell me what you were dreaming about," he whispers, breathing the words into Five's sternum as he scrapes a toothy kiss there. 

"Diego," He whispers furiously, hungrily. They didn't have time for this, there was no way they had _time_ for this. Five was hungry and hot and so, _so_ fucking hard, right there in Diego's hand, and all he wanted was for the bastard to fucking _suck_ him already. This was a _blowjob_ competition, right? When had this turned into a battle of orgasms? Five wonders if his well-mannered teasing in the alleyway had something to do with it.

The green is almost entirely gone from Five's eyes, clouded over by blown-out, dark pupils and hazy with lust. He breaths heavy gusts through his nose, snorting like a bull as he twists his hips to chase Diego's hand, still moving too agonizingly slow for his comfort, "Please," Five goes so far to ask, but doesn't give Diego the satisfaction of an answer.

Diego hooks his other arm across Five's belly, holding his hips down by force and preventing him from taking too deep a breath, which only makes him all the more light headed. A shudder goes down Diego's back and lifts gooseflesh across his arms when Five _pleads_ with him, something he does so rarely that Diego almost gives in just to reinforce it in the hopes of hearing it more in the future. 

But he doesn't back down. In fact he stops stroking entirely, closing his fist around Five's length and pulsing his hand around it in tight little squeezes that do nothing to further Five's goal of cumming, but tightens his balls all the same. 

"Tell me," Diego whispers, bending his head to suck one of Five's pebbled nipples until it goes soft under the heat of his tongue, and he pulls off with a quiet kiss. "What you were dreaming about."

Five's mouth opens soundlessly and closes just as quietly. He's fighting with himself, gulping quiet breaths into his lungs that only fill them halfway, ineffective and making his head spin as much as the twisting pulse of Diego's fist around his cock. 

His stomach lurches and blooms with warmth as he remembers his dream, the flip of the script so agonizingly apparent now. Diego was enjoying this, more than Five could allow-- _would_ allow. But there was nothing he could do about it now. For some reason, be it sleeplessness, exhaustion, arousal, Five didn't even consider teleporting them to somewhere else, whisking them away to someplace solitary and quiet so Five could slam his cock down Diego's throat with real gusto. The thought never crosses Five's head. 

Lips moving with no sound, Five's face pulls into a grimace before he tries again, lips shiny from the abuse of his tongue and teeth-- "You," He manages, growling with the word, keeping his words as quiet as possible despite the snarl, "Happy?"

"A little," Diego's lips curl smugly, and he starts stroking again in long, tight but miserably slow. The tremor in Five's hips, unable to thrust upwards to increase the pace, makes Diego's stomach burn hotly. For once he's not the one desperate, he's not the one suffering for this bet, and that's enough to make him thrum. 

He lowers his head to suck Five's other neglected nipple, rubbing his tongue against the bud and breathing out through his nose hard, his breath fanning over Five's chest as he strokes his cock slowly and methodically. He licks his lips as he disengages, Five's nipple bright cherry red from the attention, and he looks back up at his brother with dark eyes as he says, "Give me details."

" _Agh!"_ The half-yell of agony tears from Five's lips before he can stop it, and he cuts it off halfway, biting his own tongue until it bleeds as he looks over at Vanya and waits in terse, horrible silence. Surely she had to have heard. She had to have heard her brother writhing beside her, his frantic pants of agony. Surely Vanya had to know. 

But when she didn't move and they their secret remained so, Five's furious attention turns fully back onto his brother, cruel and smug as he was. Five was going to fuck the smirk off of those lips, he decides then and there, like a lock sealing into place. He was going to fuck Diego's throat until his lips couldn't move, until his jaw locked and he'd have no chance but to get medical- _fucking_ -attention. 

"In the closet by the main hall," Five says quickly, voice ragged and worn. He wants it over with. He needs this over with. "You caught me-- there was a news crew. Allison.. doing an interview. Pinned me to the door-- _Diego_ \--" Five's entire back arches up into his lips, head twisting to bury in the pillow beside himself.

Diego hums in approval, leaning on his elbow and swapping out his hands on Five's cock, gripping him with the hand that had been laying across his hips in order to move his right hand lower, and lower, behind Five's balls. For one blissful second it seems like Diego might have finally admitted defeat, but just before his thumb makes contact with Five's hole, it presses instead against his perineum, grinding in _hard_ against the spot he knows will stimulate Five's prostate, as he pumps his other hand over his cock at that same sufferingly slow pace.

"I was dreaming about you too," he admits in a whisper, leaning up on his knee now so he can press kisses into the side of Five's neck. "I dreamed you came to my room in the middle of the night-- woke me up to suck your cock. I couldn't take it anymore, flipped you over and drilled you into the fucking mattress."

Five's gut bottoms out in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever feel again. It'd been so long since the last time he'd been properly fucked-- had that been Diego too? Five realizes with horrible recognition that it had been, their time in the kitchen was counted among the first of few celebratory fucks they had indulged in, with Five allowing Diego to do the honors. Maybe he was glutton. Maybe he liked the way Diego refused to treat him with kiddie-gloves, not once giving into the condescending idea that he was a child, despite what his many siblings assured him. Diego was the only one not afraid of throwing his weight around.

Pinned to the mattress and relentlessly unable to move, Five is forced to quietly endure as his cock throbs and leaps in Diego's hand, his breathing leaving in one, full gasp that makes him choke. It felt like he'd been punched in the solar plexus, choked instead of stimulated, and Five almost wishes he _had_ been. At least a fight he could make sense of. He could _win_ a fight. But this? 

Diego's dream has Five's mind racing, hunger burning a hole so bright in his chest his cock leaks with more sticky pre, spreading through Diego's fist as he continues to pump his cock with no real resolution. Five's eyes beg Diego to follow through, to take the choice away. But even now, gagging on his own tongue and grinding down against Diego's thumb, he knew better than to say he would give in. He would not lose this. 

"Bet you'd like that," Five hisses through his teeth, head tilting as he gives Diego anything he might ever want: Room to bite, space to suck more purpling bruises into his throat. Anything and everything Diego would claim, Five offers eagerly.

"Mmm, yeah. I would," Diego murmurs, his teeth scraping against Five's throat before kissing a line down his chest. Glancing over at the still-sleeping Vanya, he carefully lowers himself down, taking care not to jostle the mattress too much. He lays down between Five's thighs on the mattress, one foot still braced on the floor, and lowers his mouth over his brother's cock again. 

After so many agonizing moments with nothing but his hand, the heat and warmth of his mouth again is almost agony in itself. It feels almost too hot, too silky, like Five will lose his mind with it, and yet still Diego doesn't go quickly. It's hard to tell if it's really just out of an attempt to let Vanya sleep, or if he's doing it specifically to fuck with Five. 

His thumb continues working against the tight little knot of muscle between Five's balls and furl, stimulating him cruelly from the outside, giving him just the tiniest taste of what he could have if he just gave in. Diego knows exactly what he's doing, and he's doing it both masterfully and cruelly. Of course, if the tables were turned, there's no way Five wouldn't return the favor and torture him in the exact same way. 

Five doesn't have time to consider his revenge. He doesn't have the brain for it. All of his thoughts are consumed by the burning of Diego's throat, the silken pull of his hair between Five's fingers, the wet, insistent drags of his tongue across the heavy, throbbing pulse of his cock. Five is so close he can feel it, right there on the precipice. His toes curl, his thighs part, and his hips raise as he tries desperately to struggle against Diego's unrelenting arm.

"Yes, Diego, yes, _yes_ \--" The desperate words spill from Five's lips like a sigh, lilting and soft with little more substance than a breeze. His entire stomach clenches and jerks forward with barely-restrained lurches, his shoulders twisting and squirming even as Five tries to drive every horrible, instinctual urge to move out of his system. He wants nothing more than to plunge into that heat.

It's with a desolate twist of Diego's hair that Five's second hand joins the first, trying to furiously push Diego's head down, to hold that heat around his cock. It's all he wants, and the jerking of his hips says it's not enough. "I'm going to-- _Diego_ \--" He whispers, clutching and scrabbling to hold onto any sense he had, wanting to cum so badly he could feel it in his soul.

A single word shatters the little veneer they'd built up, and the steam train that had been frantically chugging towards the station derails entirely when they hear Vanya's sleepy voice croak, "Really?" Diego pulls off with a surprised noise that breaks into a laugh, and he looks up to see their sister rolled over onto her side to face them with a tired smile on her face. "Right in front of my salad?"

Diego laughs from down in his gut, and even his hand pulls away from Five's perineum. "Morning, V."

"N- _No!"_ The sound that leaves Five is nothing short of animalistic, and his hips stutter as his entire body seizes. His toes curl, his shoulders hit the mattress with another heavy thud, and Five lets out a wail that none of the siblings had managed to wrench for him, "Vanya-- Vanya, please-- _please_ leave, _please_ , I'm sorry, Vanya, I'll-- _please_ \-- Diego--" 

His voice sounds overly full, choked and splintering on practically every word, and as he throws his arm over his eyes and takes a shaking breath, it becomes all too apparent that he was crying, his breathing shaky, his face twisted into a desperate, horrible frown.

" _Leave?"_ Vanya frowns. 

"You don't have to leave, he's just throwing a tantrum," Diego says. "I'm about to finish him off, you wanna help?"

Vanya just smiles as she disentangles from the covers and crawls across the bed, naked as the day she was born. She lays her chest across Five's and pulls the arm away from his face, kissing his cheeks where the tears have collected. 

"Just slept, huh?" Diego chuckles, admiring the view for a moment before he lowers his mouth back to Five's cock. He knows better than to tease him this time, he can tell when a man has reached the end of his tether, so he just swallows him to the root as Vanya presses almost shy kisses across Five's throat and up to his mouth, claiming his lips in a deep kiss. 

Five's moan is tormented as a hand leaves Diego's hair to fist in Vanya's. It doesn't hold nearly the same grit or demand, fingers burying in her hair more than they pull as he devours her mouth. His hips thrust pathetically into Diego's mouth, his moans open and pouring down her throat as the heat in his chest sinks deep into his belly for the third time, working himself into a frenzy that makes his throat nearly close.

He doesn't want to get excited again, doesn't want to get his hopes up again; but there's so little he can do. His cock twinges painfully in Diego's mouth as that tongue engulfs him a third time, and Five moans as he presses his tongue into Vanya's mouth, more aggressive than he usually is with her, unable to help himself. She gives a soft gasp of surprise when his teeth find her lip, but she doesn't seem at all put off by it. 

Diego picks up Five's thighs, lifting them up around his head and holding him by the knees as he takes a firm stance in getting Five off, bobbing his head quickly over his brother's cock in a pace that has him making animalistic noises into Vanya's mouth. Even she breaks away just to hear him moan, curling up against Five's side and hooking her arm under his neck, cradling him against her chest to just watch him fall apart. 

Her delicate hand traces over his twitching belly, her eyes wide as she watches Diego's mouth bob over Five's cock as if he's been doing it all his life. Well, she supposes he kind of has. He does it with such confidence, dropping his throat over Five's length without hesitation, and it leaves her a little glassy-eyed as she watches. She's never _witnessed_ any of her siblings hooking up before. 

"Wow, Five," she whispers, sliding her hand up his chest, curling her arm around his head to hold him by the hair, pillow him against her shoulder, twisted up between the two of them and taut as a bowstring. "Diego's really good at this, huh?"

Five can feel himself slipping, crashing into the abyss of pleasure over and over again as his cock hits the back of Diego's throat. He can feel any tenuous grasp on his humanity eking away, any human emotion draining and replaced with a deep, primordial hunger that he can't put into words. His desire to grab Vanya and pull her on top of him is insane, the gut-burning hole deep in his core making the rest of him feel as if it were on fire, or filled with static.

All at once Five falls, tipping over that massive precipice of pleasure and into complete oblivion as Diego's throat clutches at his cock, engulfing him in obscene heat. Five's entire body snaps forward, hips rutting up, body only held in place by Vanya's patient hand, and he comes with a voice-breaking shout of Diego's name. Balls clenching tight like the rest of him as he releases deep down Diego's throat, Five cums so hard that by the time he finishes he's shaking and trembling, adrenaline and overwhelming stimulus making him see white.

His eyes flutter closed, his breathing stops, and as Five's thrusts turn sporadic he collapses into Vanya's arms, barely breathing and spent.

She watches him with an expression like awe, eyes wide and soft as Five's entire body quivers through an orgasm so intense, she could swear he blacked out for a moment. Diego pulls off once Five has stopped twitching, lowering his legs to the bed and leaving him to pant and quake in Vanya's arms. 

"Do you guys... do that a lot?" Vanya asks in a small, starstruck voice. 

"You have no idea," Diego chuckles, his voice thick and sticky in his throat. 

Five's face is wet again when his body releases, slow, fat tears working their way out of his eyes as he opens them and stares, wordlessly, at the ceiling. Vanya's words don't hit. Diego's laughter doesn't hit. Nothing seems to register for a very long time, nothing beyond the roaring in his ears and the twitching jerks of his entire body, residual pangs of pleasure hitting as his body seems to come to terms with... normalcy.

When he finally remembers how to speak, Five looks down the bridge of his nose at Diego, lips twitching in what could have been a sneer or a smile, it was hard to say. At least, until he mutters, " _Fuck you_ , Diego."

"Fuck _me?"_ Diego feigns shock. "What about Vanya?"

"Oh-- you don't have to," Vanya says quickly, her ears flushing. "You two-- have had a busy morning already--" There's something in Vanya's voice that catches Five's ear, a curious, breathy lilt to her tone that has him turning his head, slowly, to look at her.

She's stammering now because she's flustered, that much is obvious. Her cheeks are pink, her lips swollen and flushed and shiny where she must have been worrying them. Her nipples are hard, just out of reach, and there's a thin sheen of goosebumps risen across her shoulders and down her arms, even as she remains unable to look at Five for too long-- especially when he seems to turn his gaze onto her. 

Five glances sideways at Diego, then licks his lips, eyes returning to Vanya's body, almost hungrily, "I don't know. I could go for seconds," Another cursory glance was given to Diego, lips twitching up in a hungry smirk, "Diego?"

"If you break the rules, I'm calling off the bet," Diego says, crawling up onto the bed properly for the first time, and Vanya catches a glimpse of the tent he's sporting in the front of his underwear, her cheeks darkening further. 

"You two are _gambling?"_ she swallows hard as they flank her on either side, hands sliding over naked thighs and hips. 

"Yeah, and if Five puts his dick in you he loses," Diego gives his brother a challenging smirk over Vanya's quivering chest, as his hand drops to cup one of Vanya's breasts. "Game set match, old man," he says, and they descend on Vanya like vultures. 


	6. Day Six

One would think that six days into this bet, Five or Diego would be close to cracking. And one would be correct-- at this point it's through sheer force of will that they continue at all. Both of their control is hanging on by a thread, kept alive by the power of their pride and nothing more. The time between blows keeps growing longer and longer between every one, not because of any lack of sexual appetite-- in fact, just the opposite. Every time they come together now, it gets harder and harder to separate again after Five has cum. 

When Five corners Diego in the shower and climbs in to stand under the water with him, and Diego drops to his knees to obey, the willpower it takes not to flip and mount his already naked brother leaves him shaking like a leaf. And the day after that, when Diego finds Five playing around with his spatial jumps in the training hall, he pins him down to the mat and sucks not one but two orgasms out of him until Five has to physically cover his own mouth to keep from begging Diego to fuck him. 

They each have their own methods of working out some of the tension. Five has his training, long hours practicing his micro jumps that amounts to just a couple minutes of lost time overall, and leaves him pleasantly bone-tired in a way that doesn't have him thinking about breaking down the door to Diego's room. 

And Diego, well. He still has his nights on the town, though those haven't been quite as relaxing ever since Five jumped his bones in the alley way because he keeps anticipating part two-- but apart from that, he works out like it's going out of style. 

The house is stocked with the same gym they used as kids, a little outdated but still functional, especially with a little WD40 on the older machiens to unstick some of the gears and pulleys. Diego takes his time working each muscle one at a time until they're quivering slightly and he's worked up a nice sheen of sweat. The exhaustion is satisfying, because when Five inevitably finds him later, he's too _tired_ to follow up on anything more. 

In the kitchen now, fresh off a workout with his hair pulled up in a tight bun, sweat glistening on his neck and shoulders and arms, soaked into the grey tank top pulled tight around his torso, he opens the fridge and pulls out a water bottle, tipping it back to drain more than half of it in one shot. He needs a goddamn shower and a nap, to beat some of this tiredness into his bones. 

It's just Five's luck that he happens to be there when Diego pads into the kitchen, quiet and unobtrusive, tucked into a corner with a newspaper and easy to miss-- especially if you were Diego, who had just finished pushing every muscle to the limit and then some and was now single-mindedly thinking of quenching his thirst and slacking some of the pain in his joints. It was easier to let one's guard down their childhood home, the Hargreeves were no exception to this rule, and considering the forced hypervigilance many of them held every minute they stepped outside those doors, it wasn't uncommon for them to slip up in the bowels of their home, the kitchens always a bastion of safety and peace.

But Five would see no peace as long as Diego was in the room. He could smell the plume of sweat as soon as he'd entered, heightened senses jolting to attention as brilliant green eyes tracked his exhausted brother across the room to the sink and cabinets. If he'd noticed Five, he was certainly not doing him the honor of saying anything, instead leaving Five to his paper and the show.

The beauty came in its innocence, Five thinks. There's no preening strut to Diego's slow, methodical actions, no smug seduction in the way he drained that bottle. Five had lost any ability to care about his newspaper in lieu of watching his brother, the powerful planes of muscle working across his back and shoulders, punctuated by that deep sliver of sweat he'd worked between his shoulder blades.

Five wants to touch him, he realizes, with a bit of breathless abandon. His fingers tighten on his paper imperceptibly as his eyes continue to wander appreciatively across Diego's broad shoulders, the narrow taper of his waist. Before the time jump, Diego's muscles had come from intentional, direct working out, pointed attacks with equipment. Since hopping back to the 1960s, Diego had filled out well, his body reflecting that of a man who had put in hard work, not a man who had built himself for vanity.

Work was a good look on Diego. Five had become aware of that. He'd been reminded all too often over the last week just how dedicated Diego could be to his work, how the determined set of his brow could decide the exact sort of night Five would have. Dragging his tongue over his lower lip, Five can feel his heart fluttering just under his sternum.

Was it worth it to be embarrassed? After a week of using his brother for his own hungry conquest, it seemed almost _childish_ to find himself aroused just at the innocuous sight of him now, leaned over the sink and splashing water on his face. What he would trade to be a masseuse to Diego's muscles, to perch on his shoulders and sink his fingers into the heavy, corded muscle and work his fingers into him until he was soft and pliant again.

Quickly, Five lifts the newspaper again-- perhaps a little too quickly, the paper fluttering unfortunately too loud to be unheard, especially for a man as aware as Diego. At the very least he can act nonchalant. Five does his best to, despite the pounding of his heart in his ears, reverberating in his chest. Casual, he reminds himself, and tries not to think of the salt of his brother's fingers on his tongue.

"Jesus," Diego flinches when he hears the paper, one arm coming up to block a blow that wasn't even close to landing. He closes the fridge he'd been standing in front of with a thump, and grabs the dish towel off the cabinet handle to dab at the water he'd splashed on his face and neck. "How long have you been sitting there, did you just warp in?"

He turns to face Five and realizes no, he must have been sitting there for a while. He has a coffee cup laid out, and his newspaper settled in his lap like an old man, tucked into the corner where nobody could sneak up on _him_ , but he could watch anyone who comes in and out of the room. Diego sighs and grabs the half-empty pot of coffee from the burner, carrying it over to top off Five's cup before sitting across from him. 

"You know, most kids these days scroll twitter for the news," he says, grabbing a sugar cube from Five's tray and popping it in his mouth to crunch on. 

Five is lucky that even at his worst, he at least has his poker face to fall back on. It wouldn't be the first time he was grateful for his face of steel. Without it, he surely would have been the successful butt of many a joke his siblings told. He pointedly doesn't let his eyes linger on Diego's hand, or his mouth, the way his tongue curled around the sugar cube making his stomach burn and clench beneath the table. 

"I don't know what Twitter is," Five says bluntly without looking up from his paper, but taking a drink from his coffee appreciatively, for no other reason than the scalding liquid at least helped keep his attention focused elsewhere. It was a burn he could control, a burn that came with no salacious undertones, unlike the itch churning his stomach whenever he caught a glimpse of one of those massive hands curled across from him now. 

Risky as it is, Five chances another look up at Diego, green eyes flitting over his face and lingering for just a moment as he takes him in for what hopefully looks like the first time, "Expecting a fight?" He asks politely, determined to be civil and not allow his eyes to drift to the deep V of his shirt, exposing the planes of his chest, and the manicured hair across his sternum.

"I always am," Diego replies, reaching up to pluck the band from his hair and shake out the waves. Immediately a waft of his scent hits Five in the face, salty fresh sweat that hasn't had time to go sour, the masculine crisp of his shampoo and his natural sebum all cloying together into a familiar cocktail that practically acts as an aphrodisiac. Five has to wonder if his own scent hits Diego the same way. 

Sitting back in his seat, he languishes back to retie his hair, pulling it up into a knot and back off his face now that his scalp has had a moment to breathe, and his shirt rides up his stomach just an inch or so, revealing a strip of warm brown skin, coarse manicured hair and a puckered scar along the pronounced vee of his hip, following the line so immaculately Five could have assumed an artist carved him there. 

Five can feel his nostrils flaring despite his determination to remain stoic. He already knows his eye lingered too long on his brother's waist, entranced by the scar, by the deep hollow between bone and muscle. He felt hunger deep in his gut, could feel the urge to close the space between them as easily as he could recall the feel of Diego between his teeth. He could remember how he tasted, the give of his skin beneath his teeth. 

Quickly, Five takes another drink of his coffee, clearing his throat as he does. He leans back, folding the paper in half, then half again, closing it neatly as if it was his intention to close the paper, and not to buy himself time.

"I presume a shower is next," He says, idly, still not looking directly at him. A poor attempt at conversation, but Five couldn't think of anything else, and the silence was... unsettling.

Diego squints as he sits back up, watching his brother in confusion. He's more than a little familiar with Five when he's horny-- especially over this past week. So why, praytell, is Five acting coy _now_ of all times? It isn't like anything's changed, the bet is still on even if the two of them are growing progressively wearier and desperate for one another. 

Is that what this is? Is Five that close to cracking? With just a little bit of carefully applied pressure, maybe Diego could get him to break... it would be poetic, if it happened here-- in the very same kitchen where they consummated their relationship the first time after coming home. 

"You're looking a little red in the face, Five," he comments, leaning forward to rest his big hand on Five's thigh, taking enormous pleasure in how far it can wrap around his skinny leg. "What's got you so fucking _shy_ all of a sudden?"

The snap of his head is immediate, and not exactly subtle, nor the work of someone with a 'master poker face' Dread settles in his stomach then as he looks up at Diego, fully aware that the predatory look in his brother's eye was no coincidence, nor the sudden, immediate pressure. And he felt it. Oh, he felt it. He felt it deep in his gut, a hunger for his brother outside the world of getting his dick sucked or fucked. 

Jesus christ, did he want Diego to fucking pick him up? Five immediately hates the twist in his chest, and when he looks down at just how big his hand is on Five's thigh, it only solidifies that argument, humiliating as it was. 

" _Shy_ isn't the word I would use," Five sneers once he can trust his voice again, ignoring the burning flush working its way from his ears to his neck. At least his voice remains steady enough, that pride kept intact, "I was more concerned about your smell. You might alert predators with your musk." 

Like him. _He_ was the predator.

"I'll keep that in mind before I go spelunking in the fucking jungle," Diego says, his thumb rubbing along Five's inseam. "I'll make sure to call you if I get cornered by a jaguar." 

The fact that Five isn't immediately ordering Diego around tells him everything he needs to know about how close his brother is to breaking. He knows for a fact that it isn't that Five isn't interested-- he knows the heat in those green eyes like looking in a mirror by now, he recognizes the flush on his cheeks. He knows that Five wants it-- he's just steeling his resolve. Honestly, Diego shouldn't be so smug, either. If he's not careful, his pressure is liable to backfire entirely and he'll be the one to break. 

Five seems to remember all at once why he never let Diego get the upper hand. He was fucking intolerable whenever he was given so much as an inch, with a smirk like the cat that got the cream and pride radiating off of him worse than a nuclear reactor. It was intolerable, unbearable, to have such satisfaction leveled at him-- And the hand on his thigh sure as shit wasn't helping, either.

"Do us both the favor and don't bother. I'd hate for you to face betrayal so soon before your death," Five's voice is cold as he finally takes matters into his own hands, leaning across the table to take his mug in hand before evaporating from under Diego's fingers. It's Five's turn to land by the sink, what he deemed was a 'safe' distance away, and leaned against the countertop, taking another slow, deliberate sip of his coffee. "Does that mean you aren't going to shower? I would really advise it, for our noses if nothing else," Five chastises, playing innocent even as his stomach and capillaries tie themselves into knots.

"Really, we're doin' this again?" Diego says, standing up from the table, but he doesn't make a move towards Five, nor does he acknowledge his comment about his smell. "Last time if I remember correctly, I fucked you right over this table. Is that what you want, Five? You want a rematch, wanna go for round two?"

The sweat highlights his muscles so that Five can see every one of them shift under his skin as he pushes his chair out of the way, stalking across the kitchen towards his brother like he was the jaguar. 

Five sucks on a tooth to cover the sudden, heavy breath he takes as his brother moves. He'd thought watching him walk in was bad, thought watching him put his hair in a bun was bad. With purpose was worse, much worse. With purpose he could see the tension in his arms, the taut lines of muscle directed for one singular purpose: Five. 

"Context, Diego," He chides, "But nice try slipping that in there. You know, you're asking to fuck me a lot for a man who also still thinks he's going to win this." Five needs to buy himself time to steel his resolve or come up with a clever way to get out of the situation. He could teleport away, still. Diego hadn't made the demand yet for anything but sex. It would be a shitty loophole, but for lack of a better option-- "Losing your resolve?" He sneers instead.

"I could ask the same thing of you," Diego says, grabbing Five by the front of his uniform and dragging him up onto his toes just as he dips his head down to meet his mouth in a searing kiss. 

They hadn't actually kissed with any real intensity since that first night when the bet was first laid down. In all fairness, Diego's mouth has been massively occupied elsewhere, and not counting the little smooch Five gave him while he was falling asleep after their tryst in the alley, this is their first kiss in days. It feels almost like it should be against the rules, touching Five like this without it explicitly being part of the bet. Neither one of them had technically initiated another blow yet-- and with their mouths in use, they wouldn't be able to. 

Diego catches Five around the waist with his other arm and then stoops slightly to scoop him under the thighs, picking him up and setting him down on the counter to put him at a more comfortable height to eat at his mouth. Despite Five's lackluster complaints about the state of Diego's post-workout funk, he doesn't seem any less ravenous. It's telling that neither of them have yet worked up the nerve to demand the other prepare for another blow-- both of them are feeling the strain, afraid that the next time would surely be the breaking point. And this certainly isn't fucking helping. 

Despite every desperate, ego-fueled scream from Five's consciousness, he doesn't pull away. He could, but he doesn't. _Should_ , but he won't. He already can feel the hunger consuming him, the fire in his gut compelling his legs to spread and curl around those powerful hips, leather-heeled oxfords digging into Diego's lower back to compel him closer, until he could feel him pressed flush against his chest, the line of his body. Five wanted to feel him with his entire body; _needed_ to feel him with his entire body.

Hands raise to clench in his sweat-slick shirt, and up close he couldn't argue how his mouth watered at the cocktail of masculinity that poured off of him in droves. Diego tasted like sweat and oil, as if he'd wiped his mouth off at some point with the back of his hand, and residual metallic from the equipment had stained him. It isn't bad. Five had always liked metallic.

Growling, Five's back sits bolt-upright so he could better meet Diego's kiss, meeting teeth and tongue with similar until they clicked together insistently. His fingers tug at Diego's shirt impatiently, wanting it off, wanting to feel across his chest and torso, to count the planes of muscle with his teeth. "Fuck... Diego," Five hisses against his lips. Admonishment for being who he was, hatred for himself, unable to resist.

Diego breaks the kiss only long enough to peel his tank top off over his head, flinging it somewhere in the kitchen. Where it landed didn't fucking matter, all that mattered was the pressure of Five's body against his, the heat of his mouth on his. He tugs Five's blazer off, pulls his sweater vest over his head and holds him by the tie, pulling him up by that point at his throat to pour his tongue down Five's throat. 

He's already hard, and he's not ashamed about it either. After six days with nothing but his own hand, _pent up_ is an understatement-- and he knows Five knows that. No part of this bet had anything to do with Diego's pleasure directly, it only involved it peripherally and incidentally. The bet would be considerably less enjoyable if Diego didn't take pleasure from the simple act of going down on Five. 

His other hand slides up behind Five's back, feeling the planes of his small body hungrily. So much of this past week has been spent with his face buried between Five's thighs that he hasn't taken the time to appreciate the rest of him. His narrow hips, the pinch of his waist, the smoothness of his skin-- it all makes Diego's mouth water as he breaks the kiss to find the mark he'd put on the side of Five's neck days ago, slightly faded now, and seals his mouth over it to refresh the bruise. 

A warm breath coats Diego's shoulder as the larger man claims his throat, and Five grits down a moan through clenched teeth, instead dragging his tongue across the raised line of his clavicle. Five bites there, then, at the delicate junction of shoulder and throat, hard enough that he can feel the flutter of Diego's heart through his tongue. What mark he gets, he gives in kind, while his hands eagerly explore Diego's chest and back, so kindly freed from the confines of his shirt.

Slim hands drag down Diego's back, sinking nails into skin and pulling, skin catching hard enough to leave brilliant red stripes in Five's wake. Five has no shame, consumed by hunger, by need for his brother's tongue, and teeth, and to feel every inch of him he can manage. Greedily a hand slips past the elastic of Diego's spandex shorts, and he grabs the heavy curve of his ass with hungry hands, pulling Diego closer to the counter, flush against him, so he can raise his hips up to meet his brother's, languidly grinding bulge against bulge, taking his own breath away.

Diego grunts, wrapping his arm tightly around Five's waist, rolling his hips against his brother's as he breathes out against his shoulder like a bull, hot and heavy. The space between them is sweltering, heat pouring off of Diego like a bonfire is crackling under his skin, even starting to make Five sweat as the larger man plucks the knot free from his tie and whips it across the room to join his tank top in the void, practically pulling the buttons clean off his shirt as he pries them open so he can attack Five's throat and chest with his lips and tongue. 

The bet rings as a dull reminder in the back of his mind. Bragging rights-- and an announcement made by the loser to the rest of the family. The flimsy stakes this entire fucking debacle has been propped up on, and it seems like small potatoes compared to the fire burning in Diego's gut now. Desperation to do away with the bet, spear Five on his cock and rut him until he cries fills every pore in his body. He can feel it trembling in Five's body too, inviting Diego to be the one break, very nearly _begging_ him to. 

He won't. He can't. Five has everything on Diego, he has age and wisdom and experience and grace and confidence-- he won't let the old bastard have this, too. So he drops to his knees in front of the counter and pulls Five's shoes off, plucking his belt open as he dives in to gently bite and mouth at the bulge in his brother's shorts. 

" _Diego_ \--" The word sounds agonized as Five says it. That's not it, that's not it, that's not it, _THAT'S NOT IT_ \-- every note in his body is screaming that it's not what he wants. Fuck blowjobs, he never wants another fucking blowjob again. He wants to be fucked, hard and deep and neverendingly. He wants Diego to bend him over the counter, to take him against a wall, in a bed, he doesn't care. But this? This? He can't stand it. He can't bear it. It feels like he's climbed a mountain only to be given a postcard of the view. He did the work, he suffered as he should. They've both suffered. Diego on his knees now is a cruel reminder of what they couldn't have, what pride wouldn't afford them to have.

He could break. Five could quit, shake his head, pull his brother away and beg for him to take him. Five could demand Diego reneg on their bet, to collapse in on himself like a noble, shooting star, just for Five to retain some aura of superiority. 

Diego's mouth on his cock, even through the heavy wool of his shorts, has Five yowling, his head tipping back as he lets out a throaty half-moan, half-sob, curling his thighs around Diego's head. He couldn't. They couldn't break the bet. Five hated himself for not breaking the bet. He hated Diego more. 

"Diego, I can't-- We can't-- I--" It's the most incoherent Diego had heard Five, more even then the desperate pleading he'd given that night with Vanya. There are 100 thoughts colliding with one another in the background of Five's brain, and he seems to try and say them all at the same time, with no results. "Diego, Diego, suck me, just suck me--" The only option was through, Five decides. Plow through the arousal, get to the orgasm, and forget this happened until next time. It was Five's only hope if he wanted to maintain any semblance of dignity.

So close. So fucking close, he could feel every cell in Five's body gearing up to give in-- only for him to hold on at the last second. No matter-- Diego hasn't enjoyed sucking Five any less over time-- arguably he had the easier part of the deal even if he had to do more of the work. He at least still enjoyed opening Five's fly and closing his mouth over his cock just as much now as he did the first time. Five's the one who seems to be struggling, his thighs already shaking when Diego deep throats him the first time. 

He peels Five's shorts and underwear down off his legs, leaving them to pool on the floor behind him, and he looks up the line of his brother's body with a breathless sort of pleasure. Leaning back on the counter on his elbows, thighs naked and spread, his shirt just barely holding on by a couple buttons around his slim frames, the black socks acting as a sharp contrast against his milky skin-- he looks fucking delicious. Diego _moans_. 

Five's cock is pulsing so hard in his mouth he can feel it jumping against his tongue, and he can tell even from his knees without looking at Five that he's in agony. Oversensitive, overwhelmed, and desperate for contact he won't let himself have. 

His entire body seizes as Diego's tongue works over him in adept, flat strokes, his stomach clenching hotly as fire pools in his belly and sinks into his bones. It makes him hyperaware, hypersensitive, every graze of teeth, tongue, lips, or fingers sending Five's brain into an unintelligible orbit, until his head is tipped back and he's staring at the bottom of the cupboards through half-lidded eyes, moaning into the echoic quiet of their kitchen, unabashed and unashamed.

It's a nice change of pace, at least, how freely Five allows himself to moan, how eagerly and openly Diego goes down on him to the root. He can feel his cock twinge against the back of Diego's throat, can feel the clenching of his balls as he eagerly responds. It isn't what he wants, not reallyhcan feel his hole twitching, clenching and unclenching around nothing, hungry to be filled-- but it's enough to distract, enough enough to make his brain go cloudy and lazy and allow him to give in just a little bit.

Eyes fluttering shut, Five allows himself to drift in the 'what if' of defeat. His hand settles in Diego's hair and he pulls him further onto his cock as it weeps with precum, ignoring the burning in his core from the need to be _filled_. He would have to deal with that later, he knew, just to wring it out of his system. But for now, Five curls his thighs around Diego's head and pulls him in deep, only partially coherent of where they were, at all.

Five's hole is clenching so hard that Diego can feel it in his cock, he feels the pull of muscles tightening and tugging on his pelvic floor, and when he leans back off Five's cock to look, sure enough he sees his brother's furl winking and twitching. Hunger fills him at the sight, desperation and a flash of weakness that nearly overcomes him before it reminds him in a soft voice-- he'd said mouth and hands only. 

While he's sure fingering Five would break the rules, oral is oral regardless of location. He grabs Five by the hips and drags him down off the counter, flipping him around roughly. His belly hits the counter, his cock wet and shiny as it points down between his thighs, and Five's stocking feet slip on the tile floor unable to find purchase as Diego grabs him by the thighs and spreads them. 

He licks a stripe up the tantalizing seam that traces a pink line from the base of Five's balls to his hole, and closes his eyes with an indulgent moan as his lips and tongue find that furl. Five could argue all he wanted, but this _definitely_ falls under the category of oral.

The shout that leaves Five is guttural and deep, striking like flint from deep in his gut as he's bent over the counter and claimed. The fingers that spread him feel lewd, the breath against his sensitive skin wrong, but the tongue that drags against his seam is warm and wet and firm, and Five can't bring himself to even properly give a fuck about violation one way or another. Goosebumps follow the immediate clenching and release of each muscle of Five's body, and his fingers scramble for purchase on the faux-marble countertop.

"Diego-- _Diego_ \--" Five has something to say, or it certainly sounds like it, but anything he might say it rendered obsolete by the hungry pace set by his brother. He tastes clean and earthy at the same time, like sweat and musk, but with a zing of soap. It's not much different from the taste of him when Diego has his nose buried in his balls, licking that sensitive spot between the two, but more concentrated. 

Every line in Five's body tenses in a rippling wave, from shoulders down his spine, until Five manages to push himself up and look over his shoulder to watch Diego with heavy-lidded eyes, and a flushed, fucked-out expression, lips shiny and swollen.

He sees Diego, knelt as if at an altar, his brow furrowed in a blissful expression that's almost approaching pain, furrowed and tipped up in the center. He can feel the scratch of Diego's beard against his sensitive skin as his mouth seals against his furl and eats at him like a starving man. Diego doesn't even touch his cock-- but he doesn't need to, it leaks between his shaking thighs as if he were being milked by a third, invisible palm. 

Diego moans through his nose, devouring his brother's hole eagerly. He can't remember a time when he's ever eaten him out-- he would have been too shy, too squeamish to consider it when they were kids, and he definitely hasn't done it since they reunited. This is the first time he's gotten his mouth on him here, and he's earnestly loving every second of it. Five's skin is tight and soft, salty and hot under his tongue. The texture is addictive, silky smooth, hairless and pert, and Diego eats him gluttonously. 

He doesn't touch his own cock, aching in his pants, both of his hands busy supporting Five's thighs. His socks won't let him get a grip on the floor so he relies on Diego's grip just to stay upright, else his wobbling knees would send him to the ground like a newborn fawn. 

When Five cums it's fast, and completely without being touched. Without so much as a stroke from his hand or a rut against the counter, without so much as a breath on his balls or a hand on his head, or even a stern- _fucking_ -word from Diego, Five's entire body begins to pulse and throb. It's all Five can do to grab onto the counter with what little leverage he has, all he can do to tuck his face into his arm and yowl Diego's name.

"Diego-- _Diego_ \-- fuck, fuck, _SHIT_ \--" Five's voice splinters and cracks like a branch in the woods as his entire body gives, his arms going slack, his chest and hips going slack, as white cum jets across the countertop and hits the cupboard beneath them, dripping in heavy, tacky stripes that would make Five embarrassed if he could see or care about anything right now. Five's legs lose their tenuous grip on the floor as he sags, and leaves it up to fate (Or Diego) to decide whether to catch him with the full brunt of his weight bearing onto his tongue or let him fall. Honestly, Five couldn't care less at this point.

Diego pulls back to watch Five shiver and shake his way through a bone-deep orgasm, his shiny and sucked-red hole flexing and clenching through it. He looks more debauched than Diego has ever seen him, with his cock hanging down between his legs dripping like a faucet and the tendons in his inner thighs sticking out as they flex deliciously. 

Abruptly, Diego hauls Five up around the waist, gooey and limp as he is on the counter and throws him over his shoulder like a sack of flour, carrying him the few feet away from the counter and dropping him face-down on the couch. Five's head is so cottony that all he can think is that this is it, Diego's finally cracked and he's about to fuck him into the couch-- but then Diego's mouth is on him again. 

Sore, oversensitive and aching, Diego's tongue plunges between his cheeks again, leaving him to scrabble for purchase on the slick leather couch. Diego rests one knee on the cushions, holding Five by the hips to keep his ass in the air with his other boot dug into the ground for leverage. He isn't gentle about it, his fingers digging bruises into his brother's pale hips as he grinds his tongue into that spot. He can feel it going soft and open and desperately wants to dig his tongue inside, but he doubts any form of penetration is allowed within the rules of the bet, and the last thing he'd want is for Five to arbitrarily claim victory after the fact because he tonguefucked him. 

_"Shit!"_ Five's voice comes out as a broken whimper, a pained bite of words and teeth as his fingers fist in the leather of their couch and he buries his head into the cushion. Desperate fingers cling to the arm rest as he tries to extract himself with weak, desperate pulls. He wants nothing more than to give in, wants nothing more than to follow his brother's hungry encouragement and demand the bet to be off. It was right there, on his lips, all the permission Diego would have needed to destroy him. Five could feel the last semblances of rational thought leaving him. 

Moans smothered by the sofa, Five keens and shakes as his belly and cock pools with warmth. It spreads throughout his torso, blooming in his hips and making his body clench, even as his hole goes wet and soft, pliant and open. Every subconscious signal in his body is begging to be fucked, his legs spreading wide to give Diego space, his ass raised in the air, "Diego-- _Diego_ , what--" Five manages to pant haggardly, half-wheezing as he looks at his brother through the crook of his arm; It was a mistake. Diego could even make eating ass look good, even with his chin and cheeks glistening with his own spit. Brows furrowed hard, even Diego looks like he's in ecstasy. 

Diego pulls back just long enough to spit in his hand, which he wraps around the half-hard, oversensitive cock hanging down between Five's legs and he milks him roughly back to full hardness as he slurps and sucks at Five's hole. He isn't shy about it in the slightest, doesn't try to be quiet or cute about it-- he growls in his throat like a jungle cat as his tongue and lips work Five open. He's so soft now that Diego's certain he could fit three fingers inside him without a struggle, and god help him he wants to. 

This is what Five has always appreciated about Diego. Whereas Luther always tries to treat him gently (though a case could be made that has more to do with his super strength than his view of Five) Allison and Vanya treat him like a gentleman, and even Klaus who has to be _provoked_ into giving Five any sort of genuinely hard time-- Diego has never once belittled him with his hands. He's rough with him, his touch even sometimes verging into unkind in a way that lights Five's body on fire. He trusts Diego more than any of their siblings to be able to tear him apart.

He's tearing him apart right now, that hand tugging him in sharp downward strokes as the flat of his tongue paints a stripe across Five's softened rim, the only sound in the quiet kitchen other than Five's ragged panting and moaning are the wet noises of Diego's mouth and throat as he works him over, and the slick slapping of his hand as he jerks him off. 

There's a roar in Five's ears that has him almost concerned. His entire body shudders under the demanding attention of Diego's greedy mouth and greedier hands. His cock burns and lurches in his palm, his thighs shake under his hips. If it weren't for the crowded quarters, the bruising fingers on his hips holding him in place, there's no doubt in Five's mind that he would have long since collapsed on himself. Fortunately-- or maybe unfortunately, as the case may be-- Five isn't granted that break. He is forced to kneel at attention, all the while wishing, hoping, and praying that his brother take the initiative to fuck him open, already.

Would it be considered breaking the rules? Did it have to be? Surely if they said hand play was alright, that could extend to fingering? Did he really even want to open that option up to Diego, who would surely use it for his own gain? Before he'd even finished the thought, Five knows that yes, yes he would.

"Die--go---" A moan leaves Five's lips that's practically heartbreaking with hunger and want, desperation curling around each syllable like a comforting blanket, "I need--" The distant thought of 'You're going to regret that' echoes mournfully in the back of his head. He didn't care, "I _need_..." Five wails again, echoing off of the walls.

Diego pulls back, panting with exertion. He keeps holding his breath without even meaning to as he eats at Five, and it's left him breathless and pleasantly light headed. The fist around Five's cock doesn't relent, milking him roughly as he neglects his hole completely, just watching it flutter and flex open desperately, trying to beckon him. It's almost working. 

"What do you need, Five?" he asks, his voice rough. He can sense how close he is to breaking, how close they _both_ are. "Tell me what you need."

"Diego--" Five growls through clenched teeth. Of course he wanted to hear him say it. Diego couldn't make anything easy on him. To be entirely fair, Five had never made it easy on him, either. But it feels crueler from this side, every word precious, every word requiring the intentional, desperate gasps for air that had his chest and ribs aching. Hazy, dark green eyes meet blown-out brown, and Diego can read what Five is going to say before he does it, "Fingers don't count," He whispers, chest heaving, "Hands-- we said hands are okay--"

If Five didn't know Diego as well as he did, he could mistake the toothy smirk Diego gives him for downright _evil_. 

"I dunno, that seems like cheating," he says, working up a mouthful of saliva and spitting directly only Five's relaxed hole, watching it flex as the slick seeps right inside him, and he twists his hand around Five's cock. "Supposed to be an oral contest. Only reason hands are allowed is because it'd get boring without 'em. Seems like fingering you would be off the table-- unless you're asking to get fucked, that is. You know I'd be happy to oblige. It'd just take three little words--"

He leans out over Five, grabbing him by the back of the neck and grinding against him. The rough fabric of his tented sweats rubs against Five's overstimulated hole, sucked raw and beard-burned bright red. Five can feel the bulge of Diego's cock rut against him as he bears his full weight down on the smaller man and instructs smugly, " _Fuck me, Diego_ \--"

Five had never considered any of the complex emotions he had for his siblings to be hatred. Contempt, sometimes, frustration usually, but hatred was a whole other level of malice that he couldn't consider placing onto his siblings, the only other people in the Universe who could understand him and accept him for exactly who he was. Now, Five realizes that he absolutely _hates_ Diego fucking Hargreeves.

Even the weight of his hand on the back of Five's neck makes him moan, the rut of that cock against his hole-- he could swear Diego almost slips inside, cloth or no, preparation be damned. He could swear they could do it this way, could fuck through their layers and layers-- but Diego wouldn't have it. No way would Diego have it, if the smug smile and shark-like grin were to be believed, and Five's shoulders hunch even as his back curves into a U to accept him, hips twitching and rolling back to grind luxuriously against him, hungry and unsatisfied.

The desperate eyes were gone, replaced with the eyes of a man scorned. " _Fuck you_ , Diego," Five says instead, snarling through grit teeth, "I'm going... to fucking... kill you." He actually sounded like he meant it, too, which would be scary if any of the Hargreeves actually thought Five would do it.

Diego _laughs_ and Five's stomach clenches at the sound. "So close, tripped over the finish line," he says, pulling back away from his brother, stealing his weight and heat from him, and it's enough to make Five nearly wail at the loss. 

He's flipped roughly onto his back, and then before Five even has time to get his bearings, Diego is laying on his belly on the couch, and has slotted Five's raw, aching cock to the back of his throat. It burns like lava, tight as a vice, and with Five as desperately oversensitive as he is, the pleasure punches him so hard in the gut it almost hurts. 

" _Fuck you, Diego_ \--" Five sounds angry, and maybe it's because he's slipped past the point of reasons. As soon as Diego takes him into his mouth, Five's hips begin to stutter and thrust into that throat. A hand finds its way into Diego's hair and mercilessly grabs to hold him still as he begins to set a relentless pace without consulting Diego at all. He didn't care, that much was apparent, and this had become a trial of necessity. He needed to get off and get away before Diego could argue, he needed to regain the upper hand. 

Five's leg raises to wrap around Diego's shoulder, and a shaking heel jams itself into Diego's back, right between his shoulder blades, and it's with a surprisingly strong shove that he keeps him pinned as his hips begin to fuck Diego's throat in earnest. Between Five's hand and the heel of his foot, Five had him pinned, claiming that soft spot on his palate again and again.

Diego relents, his own cock throbbing when Five grabs him by the hair. He'd tortured the man enough, even though he's physically strong enough to steal and maintain the upper hand by force, he gladly hands the reins back over to him. It's more pleasant for _him_ this way too, his throat opening soft and willing around Five's pistoning hips. 

He grinds his hips down against the couch under him, even that little bit of friction against his neglected cock making his thighs shake, and he moans through his nose as he just holds himself up on his elbows to give Five all the room he needs. He can feel how close he is, can taste the pre on his tongue, and finds himself salivating in preparation for Five's load to run down his throat. How many of Five's orgasms had he swallowed this week alone? His diet has got to consist of 50% spunk at this point.

Five doesn't chastise Diego for rutting into the couch like a misbehaving dog. Honestly, he doesn't pay much attention to Diego at all. He's consumed by his own arousal, consumed by his need to get off, to get himself off, to fuck a goddamn bruise into the back of Diego's mouth that hurts so bad, the bastard would think about him every time he ate so much as a goddamn sandwich for the next week.

When Five cums, it's without warning. His knees don't go stiff, his hips don't go still. He fucks Diego's throat even as he paints the inside of his mouth with seed, and continues until he's soft and the wet sounds of Diego's mouth are twisting his stomach again. 

And once he's done, he's gone, evaporating from underneath Diego with a flash of blue and landing against the wall, both hands pressed into the tabletop of the kitchen as he sucks in heavy, desperate breaths. He was overstimulated, every nerve on fire, every muscle in his body quivering as he twitches and clenches, still being hit by residual waves of pleasure, even as he stands on the far end of the room, panting like a bull and staring at his brother.

"We... are going to _end this_ , Diego," Five whispers with actual menace in his voice. It sounds like a promise. "You're _finished_." 

Five couldn't stay here. If he stayed he would break. He couldn't break. Not now, not after all of this. So he vanishes without another word, his promise hanging heavy in the air, clothes left scattered around the kitchen.


	7. Day Seven

It had been a week, and frankly, Five didn't care anymore.

In truth, maybe he'd never cared. This bet had been more for Diego than himself, after all, a chance for the man to prove himself and his prowess, an opportunity for him to succumb to sucking Five's dick without the struggle of his own ego getting in the way, a chance for the release of expectation and command, and the allowance of trust and understanding to settle between the two. Sure, maybe somewhere in there Five had lost the plot a little bit, wanted to see his brother _suffer_ a little bit, but that was natural in a competition, and Five was only one man. But if he thought about it, really thought back on the bet, what it was, how it started, he knew that it was for Diego. 

Or that was what he told himself, because the inevitability of him losing had sunk in, and sunk in hard-- pun absolutely not intended. After the kitchen, Five kept a careful distance from Diego. He framed it as being a thing out of necessity, training for something, planning something; his siblings would be concerned if it was anyone but Five, but at this point this sort of thing was so common for him they just assumed Five would let them know when he needed to tap them in. But the truth was, Five couldn't even see Diego's _shadow_ without all the hair on his body standing on edge.

Every minute of every day was plagued with the question of when he was going to get fucked. Five _could_ finger himself (no one said anything about self-service not being allowed) but something about that seemed so much like cheating that he could never bring himself to do it. So for him, the bet has become less about winning and more about _going out with a bang_. If he could torment Diego, just a little bit, like how _he_ had been tormented, well-- he could still call it a win.

It didn't take much coercing to get Klaus and Luther to agree with him. Klaus had heard about their little bet through the grape vine, Vanya's shy but indulgent mouth no doubt, and was frankly delighted to be included, and Luther-- Well, it really only took a stern word from him before the big brute was coerced into coming along.

"It's for Diego," Five had reminded him crisply, "He wants this, he just doesn't know how to ask." It was true, even if Diego had never directly said as much.

It was the final show down, and he had to set the stage. He'd recommended a particular show to the girls that night, and when they'd argued Five had explained they 'wouldn't want to be around for this'. He had to assume the reason they agreed so readily was because Allison, too, had heard about her brothers and their current wager, and either didn't want to involve herself or couldn't bring herself to ask. Five had paid for the tickets fairly, had even offered them cash to get dinner first, and with them out of the way, Five had set the scene. 

Summoning Diego to the main library, Five perched imperiously on the bar, drinking a glass of scotch that held a frankly obscene pour of liquor in it-- worse when one can see it was made completely devoid of ice, the glass filled entirely with liquor. Tonight was the night he got fucked. He knew that now. One way or another, whether Diego or he was the first one to actually call it, he was going to have a _goddamn dick_ in his _goddamn ass_ if it was the last thing he could say about it.

On the couch, Luther sat awkwardly taking up too much space, heavy arms folded onto his legs, while Klaus smoked by the fireplace, all wolf-like grinning and chattering about something that the other brothers were only half listening to, barely replying to. 

"Do you think he'll show up?" Luther asks, glancing wearily between Klaus and Five. He was already a little flushed, already a little heavy under the collar. "Maybe he heard and decided to go out tonight."

Five just takes a drink, instead, eyes on the clock over the fireplace, which had long since gone still from disuse and disrepair. No one even cared enough to fix it. "He'll come," Five says, eyes steadily on the silent clock face, "If he doesn't, that's a disqualification, and neither of us want that."

If either of them were going down, they were going down swinging.

It's been eighteen hours since the kitchen, not that Diego's counting. Not that he's watching the clock as every minute passes in agony, wondering when the ball's gonna drop. He knows Five is avoiding him because of how close he was to giving up the last time they were together. He practically begged Diego to finger him, and now he's seen neither hide nor hair of the man in over twelve hours? Diego's not an idiot. 

Being summoned to the library means that Five is almost definitely going to try to get the upper hand on him again, and he's ready for it. He takes his time winding down the long hallways, even made sure to get himself all primped and polished beforehand, with his hair in a bun, wearing a tight black tank top that exposes his arms in a way he _knows_ Five likes, freshly showered with his nails freshly trimmed-- just in case his fingers should venture anywhere sensitive. 

He swaggers into the room with all the confidence in the world, and spots Five first lounging on the bar like he owns the place-- but then his eyes are drawn to the two other figures in the room, his brothers sitting on the newly moved-in couches, much more domestic and comfortable than the previous victorian nightmares that groaned like they were dying whenever anyone sat down. 

"You want an audience this time?" Diego asks smugly, looking from Klaus and Luther towards Five on the bar. He knows there's no way their brothers aren't aware of the bet, he knows Vanya has been taking advantage of her newfound status in the family as a beloved equal to have quite the pair of loose lips. He can't blame her, after so many years of feeling excluded she's earned the right to gossip lovingly.

Klaus watches excitedly from his place by the fireplace, drink in hand outfitted with a bright, lime green straw which he eagerly drinks from. He'd been sworn to silence lest his exuberance ruin this moment, and while he wanted nothing more than to whip his dick out right then and there, he let Five take the lead with only a raise of his eyebrows and a cheeky wave.

" _I'm_ the audience," Five replies lightly from his place on the bar, one leg folded over his other knee, baring the lean muscle of his thigh, framed on both sides by deep, navy blue. He takes a slow drink from his whiskey, tongue dragging over his lower lip as he pulls away, "You're going to suck them off."

There's a sound from the couch, Luther clearing his throat. Bright red, he finally offers his own, terse, little wave.

Five smiles hungrily as he speaks next, a mirror of Diego's own less than 24 hours ago, "I'm going to watch."

" _What?"_ Diego's head whips from Five over to Klaus and Luther. Luther looks predictably shy, but Klaus is practically overflowing with excitement. "That wasn't the bet, Five. The bet was I go down on _you_. Since when does it involve _them?"_

His annoyance is a mask, and one he's certain Five can see right through. He can already feel a flush dying the apples of his cheeks, and his nostrils flare like a furious animal as he closes in on Five, trying and failing to intimidate him out of this stupid rule he's pulled out of nowhere. Diego liked going down on Five, he liked the size and shape of his cock, he liked knowing for a fact he could fit it down his throat-- that doesn't mean he could teach a master class on sucking dick. He's never sucked off Klaus or Luther before, he hasn't even been in close enough proximity with their cocks since childhood, he has no idea what they're packing anymore. 

"You chickening out, is that it?" he accuses Five, desperately trying to flip it back onto him, anything to try and shake up the power dynamic like he'd managed in the kitchen-- but Five is stone cold this time in a way he hasn't been since day one. Diego would sure like to know what the fuck changed. He can feel his heart pounding in his throat. 

"It involves them since I say it does," Five says loudly, interrupting before Diego could dig himself a deeper hole. He doesn't need to be trained in the human condition to tell that Diego's heart his racing, but it helps him pinpoint how. He can see the darting of his eyes to Luther, to Klaus, to himself-- Then back again, as if evaluating them each in turn. 

"Why should Five get all the fun when he's probably too horny to even recognize the skill of a good blowjob?" Klaus whines from the fireplace, finally unable to stop himself, "No offense, but before you had the body of a teenager, how long did you go without sex? Anything would get you off." Sticking his lower lip out, Klaus pouts across the room at Diego, trailing a finger down his body, the brunt of it exposed by a mostly-open dress shirt, "Don't tell me you're not interested in this?"

From the counter, Five's grin is absolutely intolerable, predatory and pleased even as Luther shifts uncomfortably on the couch. "Maybe I should--" Luther mutters awkwardly, shoulders hunching as he moves to stand.

"Sit," Five commands without taking his eyes off of Diego. Luther does. "Diego _wants_ to suck you off. He's a slut for it. Isn't that right, Diego?" Five asks expectantly, taking another intentionally slow drink.

Diego hates the way his entire body heats up, the flush spreading down his cheeks and patterning his throat in bright red blotches. He looks like he's about to start swinging, his jaw clenched tight in a furious grimace, his fists balled at his sides. 

"He doesn't seem like he wants--" Luther starts, and then clicks his jaw shut once more after a single scathing look from Five. 

" _Fuck you_ , Five," Diego's chest is heaving, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs and catching in his throat. He feels light-headed, fury and intrigue warring hotly in his stomach. He knows this is Five's attempt to break him, to get him to say no, to make him lose. If he were on the outside looking in, he would praise his brother for his brilliant maneuver. But sitting in his current position, he's just pissed off. 

Whirling around, he shoves Klaus by the chest, back in the direction of the couches with a snarled, "Fucking _sit down_."

"But what if I want it standing? You know if you lock your knees it's supposed to really--" Klaus is shoved onto the matching loveseat with an audible ' _woof_ ' and he grins wolfishly at Diego above him despite it, "Now be gentle, I'm just a hapless bystander in all of this."

"He raises a point," Five calls from the bar, voice cutting through the fury and vehemence pouring off of Diego in waves, as tangible as actual steam, and just as hot. Smug heat floods through Five's chest at the compliance, but he doesn't move, not for now. He can see fine enough from his vantage point-- and there's time. They have nothing but time. "Be gentle. They're your _brothers_ , Diego," Five doesn't bother concealing his smug grin, as Diego's head snaps up to glare daggers in his direction. Even that glare makes his stomach burn and flip pleasantly.

"I'm gonna fucking eat you, you little gremlin," Diego snarls as he drops to his knees in front of Klaus, settling between his spread legs. His ears are on fire, his stomach clenching, and shamefully he can feel his own cock swiftly filling out at the targeted humiliation. He refuses to entertain the idea that he might have a kink for this shit as he roughly pulls open the decoratively beaded laces of Klaus' harem pants and swats him on the hip like a cattle prod to get him to lift them so he can pull his pants down his legs. 

Luther is watching out of the corner of his eye, already visibly hard just from the vibe in the room, as Diego fists a hand in Klaus' shaggy hair and pulls him into a rough kiss. Klaus tastes like cheap margarita mix-- a crime, considering they're fucking loaded, but also very on brand for the man, and he gropes his package with his free hand, palming his half-hard cock with a dry hand. Five and Klaus can smugly tell him to be gentle all they want, but unless Klaus actually seems uncomfortable with the pace (which, knowing his masochistic streak concerning Five, Diego sincerely doubts) then Five can sit and spin. 

Klaus is nothing if not enthusiastic, and for all his crowing about gentleness, he certainly returns Diego's hungry kiss with hunger of his own. It isn't the carnal, animalistic fervor that Five incites, but he's more than capable of matching stroke for stroke, and his hand comes to gently cradle Diego's throat as they kiss, his thumb massaging circles into the thick tendon at his neck.

" _Oh_ , god, uh--" Luther's quiet rumble comes from the other side of the couch, but makes absolutely no attempt to move or stand, whether because he genuinely wanted to stay, or because he had been so thoroughly rejected the last time he attempted to.

Five watches, hungrily, as Klaus' fingers smooth over Diego's back, across his shoulders. Unlike Five, many of the siblings still hadn't formally reacquainted themselves, and while Diego had always held a special place in Klaus' heart, he was also notoriously the hardest to pin down. Klaus being Klaus, he wasn't one to give chase-- so in a lot of ways they had Five to _thank_ for this moment. Klaus knew better than to say as much right now, though.

Instead, Klaus smiles into the kiss, leaning back to nuzzle Diego's nose with his own, cheekily grinning all the while, "Not so bad, Diego. You've really improved your technique," He purrs affectionately, smiling warmly at his brother, for all the growing electricity in the room.

"Suck his cock, Diego," Five declares from his throne, impatient and hungry, "You can braid each other's hair later."

Reminded of Five's presence, Diego's back prickles. "Don't _rush_ me," he snaps, and finally looks down to see what he's got to work with. 

Klaus isn't fully hard yet, but his size looks... manageable. At least, Diego hopes. He certainly isn't hung like a horse (Diego refuses to even consider what Luther might be wielding just yet, he'll cross that bridge when he gets there) but he's markedly bigger than Five, who boasts a modest but respectable five inches. He'd have to guess that Klaus is an inch or two longer and a noticeable margin thicker, but Diego can probably take it. Probably. 

"You know Five, if you spoil me with cocks bigger than yours, yours might bore me," he bites out, all heat but no teeth, before he tugs Klaus' hips to the edge of the sofa, pushing him back into a luxurious lean, and sealing his mouth around his cockhead. 

He notices immediately that Klaus _tastes_ different than Five. Five's skin has a natural salty-sweet musk to it that's always balanced with the sharp sting of soap that sits in Diego's nose. But Klaus' skin has a noticeably deeper funk to it, earthen like the way clay-fired pottery smells, with just the slightest hint of that skunky tang that only weed can provide, Klaus' only remaining vice sinking into the very texture and flavor of his skin. It isn't unpleasant, and in fact instantly hits Diego in the chest with a nostalgia hammer as he relaxes his jaw to take more of him inside. 

Where Five always seeks to gain some kind of control, Klaus releases his so eagerly. He collapses into the cushion of the couch with a heavy sigh like he'd been punched in the chest, his arm raising to drape across his eyes as he basks in the sudden warm, slick heat engulfing him. 

"Je-sus _christ_ ," Klaus breaths worshipfully, voice thick. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows around the knot that immediately wells in his throat, "Fuck, Diego, you really... don't mess around..." He says, laughing breathlessly as he does. Narrow hips raise on the couch to roll, experimentally, into Diego's mouth, a shallow, experimental thrust that has his cock slipping just half an inch further into that plush heat, like velvet. It isn't a demanding stroke, nor is it cruel, just the eager participation of someone who was enjoying what they were doing.

Diego can feel eyes on him, both the searing heat of Five's and the shy glances of Luther's, but he refuses to look at either of them. Anything to maintain some shred of his dignity, through the hot burning in his face to the heady flipping in his stomach, to the ache already settled into his cock tenting the front of his pants. They're not idiots (or at least Five isn't, Luther apparently is so bad at picking up on cues that he fears Diego is _unwilling_ ) they don't need to see the glassy look in his eye to know he's being affected by this.

As he suspected, it's a lot more difficult to think of deep throating Klaus the same way he can for Five. His cock has filled out to its full size quickly, and Diego has a harder time sealing his mouth around it in the same comfortable way he's grown accustomed to with their smallest brother. His cheeks pull hollow with every stroke up to the tip without even consciously forming a vaccum, and Klaus' cockhead hits the back of his throat with more room to spare than Five's does. 

Knowing that Five's watching is all the motivation Diego needs to do a fan-fucking-tastic job. Five might have put this together to try and humiliate him into submission, but he refuses to give the smug bastard the satisfaction. With a soft grunt, and a wet noise in his throat that heralds a barely-contained gag, Diego presses past his soft palate and tucks Klaus' cock into his throat. His head spins and his stomach lurches, and he pulls back a second later gasping, but the second time is easier, and the third even easier than that, until Diego is bobbing his head to the root, steadily fucking his own throat slack. 

With the house to themselves, Klaus feels no shame in moaning loud enough to fill the room. Hell, even with the house full he doesn't ever mind making himself heard, and despite the arm over his face he croons lovingly into the air above and around them. His hand finds its way into Diego's hair, but it's such a wildly different experience from the way Five holds his hair that it's almost a different action, entirely. There's no weight to Klaus' hand, no knuckle-straining tightness or relentlessly firm twist against his scalp. His hand doesn't burn, or pull, or catch, but rests easily, almost gently, on Diego's head, guiding him without pushing, savoring without demanding.

From the couch, Luther's breaths leave him in steady, slightly wheezy pulls, half-panting through his nose as he watches, his chin heavily in his hand, fingers covering most of his face in what could have been anything from shame to embarrassment to hunger. Most likely a mixture of all three. He shifts uncomfortably in his eat, not surprising considering the heavy bulge already pressing against his own thigh, barely restrained by his pants.

"Remind me to... bet you next, Diego, _christ_ ," Klaus continues the endless stream of praise as Diego buries his nose to the root in him again, enough that Klaus can feel the tickle of his beard mixing with the tight, dense curls at his own base. He squirms for purchase on the couch, laughter bubbling out of him breathlessly, unbidden as he finds it, his legs spreading.

"Hey, Ben," Five's voice cuts through the happy, quaint little moment, and the energy slants immediately darker, twisting into something heightened. Mean, as he invokes the name of a brother they so often forget. "You watching?"

The question seems to jar Klaus, who looks blearily over at Five as his face pulls into another hungry moan, "Not if he knows what's good for him-- ah-- _fuck_ \--" His keens, head tipping back onto the sofa.

Klaus almost seems to shudder in his skin, and when he looks up he seems like a different person entirely. "Yes--" Comes a lower, breathless, voice from Klaus, his head tipping forward very briefly to look down at Diego. Klaus' entire face goes red, uncharacteristically. 

"What do you think?" Five enjoys the question far too much, and he shows it. 

"It-- it's good," Ben whispers with Klaus' voice, just a little deeper, but much less steady. Shyer, but more emotional, "It's really good, Diego..."

"Keep going," Five orders, the iron back in his voice, hunger burning an acidic hole in his chest, "Faster." He leaves no room for argument.

Despite the order, Diego pulls back and off entirely in surprise with a gasp of " _Ben?"_ that burns in his raw throat, and sends him coughing. "Holy shit, Ben--" he chokes out, coughing on his own spit. 

It's a cruel move, springing Ben on him like this, and he can tell from the satisfaction in Five's entire demeanor that he'd been planning this from the start. He hears Five clear his throat impatiently from the bar, and Diego mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he kneels up, his demeanor changing. 

He grabs Ben under the armpits and lifts him easily (KIaus' slight frame weighs about 110 pounds soaking wet) laying him out on the couch with his head and shoulder in Luther's lap, just for support and closeness. If Five's hoping to throw him off kilter with the addition of _another_ brother, he's got another thing coming. He's going to make this the most incredible blow of Ben's life.

Sticking two fingers in his mouth as he gets himself comfortable on one knee on the couch, he purposefully puts the bulk of his frame between Klaus' body and Five's, forcing the bastard to actually put in a little bit of goddamn effort if he wants to keep watching. He nestles down between Ben's thighs and probes at Klaus' hole with his wet fingers. The bet was for _Five_ not to get fucked, after all, there were absolutely no restrictions when it came to using his fingers on Klaus, Ben, or even Luther for that matter. 

He lowers his mouth back over Ben's borrowed cock just as he twists one finger up into him, immediately feeling the war between Ben's shyness and Klaus' experienced muscles as they grip around his finger, and he slots that cock to the back of his throat again while his digit finds and then mercilessly abuses Ben's prostate, bobbing his head in time with the thrust of his finger. 

"Wait, wait--" Ben scrambles as he's repositioned, clumsy and awkward and definitely not expecting such a change in venue. In truth, Five had only discussed it with him in a one-way conversation, mostly in the form of Five asking for his opinion in an empty, open room and hoping Ben had heard. It was pure luck he had. But he hadn't expected _this_ , and immediately he grabs onto Diego's shoulders with a shudder and a shout, fingers digging into the muscle as his legs spread for him.

An approving noise leaves Five from across the room, and Luther looks down at the scene with wide eyes and a face the color of a cherry, but otherwise no one interrupts what was _meant_ to be a blowjob and nothing more. "Holy crap, Diego," Luther mutters, "Are you doing okay?" His voice is barely more than gravel at this point, all hard and dragging grit. 

Ben writhes under Diego's touch, barely registering Luther's word as his brother's mouth engulfs him to the root, his body opening hungrily for him. Nuances of the bet were lost to him, a non-participant, so all he knew was to lean back and enjoy it: and he sure was doing that, hips twitching and hands scrabbling for purchase wherever they could find it. 

"Diego-- _Diego_ , I'm not--" He could feel himself fluttering, his control over his brother tenuous at best even with permission. It was worse now with spikes of pleasure filling his gut, turning his mouth to cotton and the space between his ears into a warm vacuum consumed with only concern for what was going on between his legs. Whatever experience Klaus had with this clearly didn't carry to Ben, who gasped and whimpered like Diego was systematically setting his body on fire. Goosebumps rose and raced down his arms and across his chest, matched only by the smattering of brilliant red flushed across his body. The entire world falls away except for Diego, even Luther, pinned beneath his back.

Five watches his brother lose himself, watches the intimate little scene on the couch, without moving or interfering. It seemed to sweet, so deeply personal: and Five could feel his own heat growing in his stomach as Diego cruelly turned what was meant to be a blowjob into an intentional attack. His body clamped down around nothing, and even without the view he could tell what was happening, just by the sheer whimpers of his brother alone, the way Luther's large hand came to settle on Klaus' hip to hold him down. 

To counteract the fire building in his stomach, the hunger making his entire body ache and prickle pleasantly, Five leans back on the bar, languidly, enjoying the moment exact for what it was. The whiskey helps, whistling in the air helps more and smiling tightly as Luther turns his head to look at him, awkwardly, over his shoulder. 

"See, Luther?" Five calls, pitching his voice to raise above the pathetic mewling of their brothers' shared experience, Diego's expert fingers plucking him apart, "Diego's been starving for so long. Why don't you join the fun? You'd like that, wouldn't you, Diego?"

Luther's mouth goes dry and slack, and he again looks between Diego and Five with an agonized look of hopelessness, "Oh, jeez, uh--I don't... uh... he looks... busy," Luther manages, staring at the flushed, glassy look in Diego's eye. His cock lurches in his pants, hungry and controlled by something other than reason or compassion.

"He's fine. Aren't you, Diego?" Five calls, still half-shouting over Ben's breathy moans and shaking calls of Diego's name.

Diego raises his other hand over his shoulder in answer, flipping the bird at the brother behind him, who only laughs at the gesture and remains unaware of the hard glare that Diego casts up towards Luther with his mouth still wrapped around Ben. There's one thing that's clear in his expression, an unspoken but determined, _wait your fucking turn_. It's hard to say which brother is more intimidating in their prime-- Five or Diego. 

His second finger joins the first, prying Ben open like he intends to fuck him after this. He doesn't know how much Ben is aware of the bet, he has no idea how much Five told him, but he feels almost guilty for fingering him when he doesn't intend to actually seal the deal. Maybe that's what Five was hoping for, to trick him into using his fingers on someone who's allowed to take them according to the rules, but Diego isn't allowed to fuck _him_. It's torture, and he wouldn't put it past Five to think of something like that. 

When Ben cums it's with the squeakiest little noise that Diego's ever heard come out of Klaus' throat, a tight little whimper high up in the back of his nose that plunges a hot spike into Diego's stomach. His thighs shiver around Diego's head, his back arches and Luther cradles his head and shoulders to keep him from twisting right off the couch as he pours down Diego's throat and his hands tighten over his scalp, too polite to undo the bun at the back of Diego's head even to hold onto his hair. 

Diego swallows him, his throat feeling raw and sore in a way he _knows_ he's going to feel tomorrow, and he knows Five is feeling incredibly smug about, and he sits up panting, pulling his fingers out of his twitching brother, whose thighs jump just at that little bit of oversensitive contact. Clearing his throat, Diego stands up off the couch and leaves Ben in Luther's capable arms as he crosses the room abruptly to the bar. It isn't the slow stalk of a man who's on his way to flip Five over that very same bar, but rather an intentional stride that carries him past Five to the back of the bar, where he flicks open the cap on the bottle of scotch Five had poured from and brings it directly to his mouth for a long drink, aiming to clear his throat. 

He slams the bottle back down on the counter and if looks could kill, Five would be dead on the floor from the hateful stare Diego gives him. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grits out, "That all you got?"

The look Five gives Diego for his proud little slam of a perfectly good scotch isn't impressed. He's not even blushing. In fact, his eyebrows raise into delicate little arches as his eyes flick from the scotch to the man holding it, the look on his face crossing the boundary into boredom. He looked fucking bored, even as he takes another deliberately slow drink of his scotch.

"Technically, I wanted you to suck them both off at the same time," Five admits, looking into his glass curiously, "If I wanted to, I could probably disqualify you for that alone." But again, that isn't why they were here, and that wasn't a path Five was about to take. 

"I only have one _mouth_ you piece of--" Diego takes a step forward, and Five raises his voice as Diego lurches forward like he was getting ready to grab Five for his insolence alone.

"Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous. You took care of Klaus and Ben. Good for you. Take care of Luther." He nods to their brother on the couch, who visibly flinched when he heard his name being said amongst the ruckus.

Slowly, Luther turns to look at them both over his shoulder, and his throat tightens, then releases as his jaw clenches and unclenches. He definitely looks like he's chewing on his words, like it was a particularly stubborn bit of meat he couldn't quite swallow.

Just _looking_ at the pair of them was intense. Five was all casual confidence, smirking up at his brother, and Diego looked furious enough to eat the sun. He looked like he was considering eating Five, in all honesty, the tension pouring off of them two like heavy waves, hot enough that it burnt Luther's cheeks if he looked at them for too long, "Uh, listen, guys, Klaus is, uh..." a concerned glance was made toward their brother, who waves a hand wearily and gives an exhausted, soundless thumbs up, "He's pretty beat, so maybe I just--"

"Do you want your dick sucked, Luther?" Five snaps, head jerking toward the brute, "Because before this, you told me you'd love your dick sucked."

"W-Well-- Jesus, Five-- yeah, I guess so, but I didn't know it was going to be like.." Luther waves his hand.

"I agree with you there, Luther," Five sneers, and turns that molten gaze back to Diego, leaning forward like a viper as he does, "I wasn't aware Diego was going to push the rules so much, either. Because last I checked, when I said suck, Diego says 'How long?'"

" _You_ changed up the rules," Diego spits, grabbing Five by the knot of his tie and twisting his collar tighter around his neck as he pulls him in. His throat is sore and aching already from the inexperience of taking a cock as long as Klaus' and he knows it'll only get worse with Luther's contribution. He's desperately trying to cover how goddamn nervous he is with anger, and he has no idea if it's convincing. Luther at least seems convinced of his anger.

Still, Five doesn't look cowed, even as the silk of his tie bites uncomfortably into his throat. He doesn't so much as swallow in contrition-- no doubt because he didn't feel any. "If you wanna give up, Diego, just say so. I thought I'd prepare a feast for you, but if you can't even handle Klaus and _Luther_..." he scoffs condescendingly, not daring to break their eye contact, "Then maybe you never deserved to fuck me in the first place."

Diego holds him there for a moment, lip curled like a furious dog, the only sound in the room the ticking of the clock, before Diego shoves him away roughly enough that Five has to catch himself on the edge of the bar with his hand to keep from toppling off the back in an undignified heap. 

"Stand up," he orders Luther, grabbing him by the front of his sweater and pulling, as if he was strong enough to physically move around the bulk of their largest brother, but Luther complies without question. He always has been good at taking orders. 

Dropping down to his knees in front of Luther, Diego opens his belt with more confidence than he actually feels, a pit growing in his stomach as he finds himself face to face with Luther's bulge. He roughly opens the fly of his jeans and without any preamble, yanks down both his jeans and his briefs in one tug. Luther's cock flops out, too heavy to stand upright properly, and Diego feels as if he'd been punched in the gut with it. 

He was _expecting_ Luther to be big, so it's not that he's surprised by it. But it's like having his worst fears confirmed. He talked a big game about being a pro cocksucker and had put Five under the table more than once, but Luther was a completely different ballgame. His cock is nearly as thick as Five's forearm, and at least eight inches long-- big enough that it makes Diego flush with embarrassment for his own size in comparison. Diego isn't exactly small, but next to Luther he might as well be a twink. 

"This is fucking excessive," Diego grits out angrily, spitting in his hand and immediately stroking over Luther's cock to get it wet, before fitting his mouth over just the head. It's already a decent mouthful, his lips sealing around the rim of his glans and sucking. He, too, has a different flavor to their other brothers, he's distinctly saltier and his musk is deeper, if Diego had to describe it he'd say Luther tastes _animalistic_ , but he knows the comparison would just shame his sensitive brother, so he keeps the thought to himself. 

Luther makes a heavy sound like all the breath was punched out of his gut, and his hand raises immediately lands on the oak mantle above the fireplace. Most of the stuff had been cleared off of it with the auction, already sold or being given to smaller markets that wouldn't require the Hargreeves' direct involvement, for ease of organization. It was good that it's empty now, as the wood groans under the weight of just his arm, and Luther's fingers curl around one edge of the wood, eyes wide and staring down at his brother.

He'd been absurdly hard, before, throbbing and twitching as he'd watched Diego slave over Klaus and Ben with the eager exuberance of a man with something to prove. The look in his eye had flustered him, seeing his brother so dedicated, so turned on-- and it wasn't even necessarily about them at all. They were just conduits. Luther, for all he had the title of the dumbest sibling, noticed more than he let on, and he recognized that heavy-lidded gaze that sank into Diego's face whenever Five decided to be particularly demanding.

There's no way Luther could replicate it, himself. It wasn't even his place. Luther doesn't even bother trying to put a hand on Diego's hair or on his shoulder, biting his lower lip as he clutches at the mantle so hard the wood aches and creaks under the stress of it, "Don't-- don't push yourself--" He mutters, something like shame in his voice as his face burns bright red, the condemnation of his size and his brother on his knees in front of him forming a tight pit in his chest that makes his cock twitch.

"Push yourself, Diego," Five demands, from the bar, and there's the sound of him pouring himself another drink, then the light thud of his power as he appears on the sofa. Luther looks up to see Five perched on the back of the couch, feet on the cushions, still keeping his distance but watching with intent, dark eyes that made his face burn and cock twitch. "Don't be lazy."

" _Fuck you_ , five," Diego says raggedly not for the first time as he pulls off of Luther to try and form a plan of attack. Five had said to push himself, but Diego is pretty sure if he just goes in whole hog he'll hurt himself. Knowing Five, he'd probably ­like that. 

He mouths down the length of Luther's cock, sucking wet red marks down the side as he measures him up, stroking over him with one hand and hefting his balls in the other. They're heavy and furry, a pleasant size to squeeze and pull as he buries his nose against the base of Luther's cock and sucks at the crease where it crests from his body, the velveteen sensitive folds of skin where the shaft meets his balls addicting to suck and run his tongue through. 

Diego finds himself embarrassed, as he realizes he's... actually getting into this. Maybe he really _is_ just a cocksucker after all. His face is hot and his mouth is watering as his tongue makes tracks over his brother's length, and he reaches up to take the hand hesitantly fisted at Luther's side, guiding it to rest on his head. Lord almighty, but Luther's hand is big, it covers most of the top of his head, nothing like the tiny pinching grip of Five's hands.

Luther's entire stomach drops out as Diego explores him in a way he never has been, before. Since his splice, the only person who would actually touch him was himself, and Luther didn't have the best confidence when it came to that sort of stuff. Traditionally, he would just let himself get over any sort of hormones he might experience-- but this? This was much, _much_ better, even with the air between his brothers feeling so static charged in a way he couldn't explain.

Looking down the bridge of his nose, Luther watches Diego with heavy huffs of breath, chest rising and falling with quick, shallow, ineffective gasps. He doesn't pull, despite the soft hair under his fingers, and in fact marvels that he can feel it at all. His hand is heavy, predictably so considering how big the rest of him was, but Luther's touch was still gentle, thumb dragging across Diego's hairline in reassuring strokes as his breath hitches. It'd be kittenish, almost adorable if it was coming from a smaller man, definitely if it was coming out of Five, but Luther was so big they sounded almost like hiccups.

The cock in Diego's hand twitches heavily, jerking as it fills even further with blood-- only making it heavier in his brother's hand, balls clenching as bear and teeth drag over the hypersensitive, neglected skin, "Diego, you're--" Luther bites his words back, groaning at how idiotic they sound without even finishing the sentiment, "...Y-You're really good at this--" He manages, a fresh, hot flush burning his cheeks as he does.

Diego feels a surge of pride in his chest at Luther's praise. Ancient, desperate instincts for approval from Number One stokes a fire in his gut that only encourages him, and he fits his mouth around Luther's cockhead again. Now that he's getting used to it, he finds that it fits easier than before-- he'd obviously instinctively compared it to the last cock that had been in his mouth, but it isn't that it's an impossible fit. He's thick, but not completely unreasonable, the weight is even pleasant on his tongue. 

Still, he doesn't venture further, too intimidated by the thought of going deeper. He'd gagged on _Klaus_ , he's not at all confident in his ability to take Luther. Instead he just bobs his mouth over his glans, and strokes his hand along the rest of his length, pumping him enthusiastically with a tight circle of his fingers. 

Sitting on the balls of his feet, his pants pull extremely tight around his groin, and his fly absolutely aches against the press of his cock. He could reach down to touch himself, they've never had rules against that-- but he doesn't want to take either of his hands off of Luther. He's addicted to the feeling of his balls in his hand, heavy and soft, and he has to compensate for how little distance he's willing to cover with his mouth with his other hand.

Luther's mind is awash with an ecstasy he had only experienced with porn, the mouth open, flushed faced pleasure that came from someone working their hardest to provide-- and god, was Diego providing. His gut clenched hotly with just the vision of Diego on his knees in front of him, and Luther was struck, not for the first time, by how genuinely small he was in comparison.

Insane, considering how well Diego was taking care of him now. His lips were wet, his cheeks flushed, eyes dark and concentrated on his cock, his balls. In his hands, Luther became a creature of want and hunger, a proper beast to match the rest of him, "Oh god-- Oh god, I'm--" He wasn't going to last long, and his face burnt at the prospect of cumming too soon, and in front of Five again, no less. His entire body clenched and unclenched as the hand in Diego's hair tightened, imperceptibly to any but himself, no doubt, hyperaware as he was.

"Jesus Christ, Diego, I told you to put your back into it," Five's voice appears right beside Diego's ear, cold and hard and mean, and for a split second it seemed like Diego was going to pull off to retort.

He's gifted instead with a vice-like grip settled deep in the hair at the back of his neck, hair that Luther's massive paw hadn't touched. The larger man pulls away like he was burnt, and Five's grip forces Diego down, drilling the cock deeper into his mouth, until his cheeks bulged and his eyes watered. Five pulls Diego's mouth away from Luther's cock after just a second of forcing him down onto it, pulling away only to let Diego sputter and cough. Luther pants above them, chest heaving, the sudden plunge of that mouth making him light-headed and fuzzy. 

"Breathe," Five commands to the man trapped in his grasp, and the hand doesn't relent. He's talking to Diego, but Luther sucks in a breath anyway, mouth going dry. Five isn't looking at him, he's looking nowhere but at Diego, hand fisted in his hair and eyes sharp.

Diego is left just to _recover_ from feeling Luther's cock plunge deep enough into his mouth to touch the back of his throat. He would have sworn up and down that it wasn't possible, that his jaw couldn't open wide enough, that there physically wasn't enough room in his mouth-- but Five had always been a master of pushing the edge of what's feasible. Diego's entire body shudders, and he drops suddenly from his perch on the balls of his feet to resting on his knees instead, too light-headed to maintain his balance. 

He's embarrassed by how outrageously turned on that simple action made him, just feeling Luther hit the back of his throat made every muscle in his body seize up, and having Five right there again-- jesus, Diego realizes, he really is a slut. 

His voice is hoarse and broken, crackling in his sore throat when he says, "Do that again."

Five actually smiles at the request, as if he had to be told, "Open."

Diego complies, tongue falling out of his mouth to cover his lower teeth, eyes overbright and locked on Five-- and Five complies in turn. Fingers digging into the hair under the tie of his bun, Five presses Diego's face forward, not stopping even when Diego's hands raise to Luther's thighs and he can feel the resistance of Diego's throat trying to close him out. "Relax. _Relax_ ," Five snaps, and there's a wet click as Diego does as told and the head of Luther's cock slips past his tongue and into his throat. 

"Good boy," Five whispers.

With the twisting of his fingers and sharp, quick pulls, Five begins fucking Diego's throat with Luther's cock. The larger men subject to him are left to react how they will, the wet grind growing worse, wetter, as saliva pools and drips down Diego's chin unbidden. Above them, Luther moans pathetically and leans into the wall so hard the antique wood paneling creaks under the effort of holding him up.

Five shoves Diego's head down with another wet gulp, until his nose is grinding into the heavy tangle of curls he'd been so admiring earlier, pulling Diego away to pant twice, wetly, before pressing him down again, not giving him time to recuperate, only enough time to gulp for air before his throat is claimed by that massive cock, now steadily leaking pre into his throat and mouth.

Diego has never felt anything like this before. His throat is sore, aching like it's on fire, it burns like a muscle overworked by an exercise machine. Diego is familiar with the way a muscle feels when it's been overextended, pushed to its limit. He knows his throat will hurt for days any time he swallows after this-- and he find that satisfying. What kind of level of depravity has Diego sunk to, he thinks, that the feeling of his throat being severely overtaxed makes him _hard?_

He breathes when Five allows it, because he can't get a single breath through his nose when Luther's cock is completely filling his throat, and he reaches up with a shaky hand to confirm that yes, his neck does bulge when Luther's length is completely pinned down inside it. He feels dizzy with pleasure, and moans helplessly through his nose. 

His mind is going fuzzy again, like it did in the alleyway. He can feel himself slipping away in that way only Five can provide. The only man in his life he's ever known who has both the patience and the command to break down Diego's walls and work him over until he's so exhausted that he doesn't have the _energy_ to put up a front anymore. To pretend to be something he's not-- to pretend he doesn't _want_ to submit. 

Five is the only one he can trust to _force_ him to be honest with himself. 

Luther watches, chin tucked into his chest, face a ruddy magenta as he huffs and puffs through his nose and mouth. His hands grip ineffectively at the walls, the mantle, anything he could scrabble for. He wasn't a strong man where it mattered, and he needed something or someone to hold onto. "Guys--" Luther half-gasps, voice like gravel. The noises he's making are pathetic, the low, grumbling half-whimpers caught in his throat.

Leaning in, Five grinds Diego's nose into the skin of Luther's pelvis, and when the man's hand raises to touch his throat, Five's opposite hand lifts to hold it there, "Feel that?" He whispers, his voice soft, words just for Diego. Luther was little more than a prop. He releases slightly, still holding Diego's own hand to his throat, so he can feel the cock giving and shifting inside of him, "You like that, don't you?" 

He pulls Diego away, even as Luther chokes and half sputters above them at the interruption, "I wish you could see yourself," Five rumbles, voice heavy and charged with an electricity he didn't dare let himself feel, heat pooling in his stomach at the empty look in his brother's eye. He leans forward, closing the space between them, hand still on Diego's throat as he presses his forehead to the other's temple. 

This time he lets Diego suck in his heavy, wet breaths, lets his chest heave and stomach fill, without moving from Diego's side. Five's breath is warm in his ear, voice still a heavy growl as he mutters. "Finish it, Diego. Open." And when he does so, he pushes Diego forward again, impaling his throat on Luther's cock and setting an unrelenting pace with long, demanding strokes, plunging him to the hilt each time.

Luther cums in a truly embarrassingly short amount of time after Five sets the pace, and Five holds Diego there all the way to the root, his length filling his throat. Part of Diego is sad he didn't get to feel Luther cum across his tongue, but the way his throat is forced to relax and expand around his girth is too satisfying to mourn it sincerely. Instead he can feel Luther's cock pulse and twitch in his throat, and when Luther is left only making quiet, oversensitive sounds, Five allows him to pull off. 

Diego immediately loses his balance and falls to his hands on the floor. He belches, embarrassed, so much air punched down into his guts that all comes up in a rush, and he drools on the floor like a dog as for one moment he thinks his stomach is going to overturn and he's going to heave on the floor-- but it doesn't come. 

With the room spinning, Diego has to support himself on his palms because he's sure he'd just fall over without the support. His muscles feel like jelly, his head feels totally empty, and his throat is burning like he just took a shot of straight bleach. All together it shouldn't feel good-- but fuck, it does. He coughs hoarsely, while Klaus sits up from the couch he'd just dozed on to fold his arms over the back and look down at Diego. 

"Way to go, champ," he croons sleepily. Diego barely even hears him, and doesn't respond. 

Luther presses the heel of his massive hand to his forehead to steady himself, maybe even to push himself back against the wall, chest raising and falling, "Ho... holy crap. Diego," He says, sounding absolutely breatheless and obliterated on his own, oblivious to the moment happening on the ground at his feet. 

"Shut up Klaus. Luther," Five says sharply as he kneels next to Diego, tipped forward as the man was. One hand was still in his hair, but the other moves to his chest, muscles in his arms flexing as he works as a supporting hand, lest Diego's torso prove too heavy. He wouldn't let him collapse on the ground. "Your jobs are done here. You can go." 

An offended noise comes from the couch, Klaus struggling to pull himself upright, "Now, wait a minute, don't we get to cuddle? I was hoping we'd spend some brotherly time together. This is the first time we've all really been--"

An icy look from Five, given over his shoulder and thunderous in disposition, shuts him up. 

"Jeez, tough crowd," Klaus grumbles, heavily pulling his limbs back to an upright position as he tugs his pants back on, then crossing to where Luther was still abjectly staring at the scene before him, his two braincells somewhere in orbit. It was clear he felt conflicted, his desire to help and protect clashing with being absolutely unable to move any part of his body. "C'mon, big guy, let's find a bed and take a nap," Klaus mutters sympathetically, wrapping an arm around his waist. He doesn't even try helping Luther tuck his dick back in his pants.

Luther realizes he's still dick-out after about two steps, and he hastily pats at himself to tuck himself in, muttering, "Five, we can--"

" _Out_ , **_now_** ," Five's voice is cutting, but those eyes are still on Diego, his hands are still on Diego. He's on one knee with the heavily panting man and remains firm, insistent contact with him, even as the other two brothers make their way out the door without another word of concern.

Only once the door clicks shut behind them does Five speak again, and his tone is leagues different from the hard commanding tone he'd given their brothers a moment ago. Now it's soft. Powerful, intentional, but gentle and warm, matching the hands that still held him upright. The hand in Diego's hair had turned into a gentle scratch of nails against scalp, the hand on his chest centering Diego as his thumb strokes across his chest.

"Think you can sit up?" Five asks, leaning forward to make sure Diego remembers he exists, like one might when confronting an antsy horse, "Come on," His hands are gentle as he urges Diego back, until he can properly sit down on the ground, Five's hand still planted firmly on his chest.

Diego's legs shift out from under him and he leans against the back of the couch, his brain on another fucking planet. He isn't thinking in words, only feelings. The feeling of Five's hands on his skin, the sound and cadence of his voice if not the words themselves. They make him feel small in a way no one else can. In a way Diego won't let anyone else come even close to. 

He swallows hard, feeling the ache of his overworked throat muscles. His soft palate burns, like there's still something pressed against it, like how it felt when he got strep once as a kid. That deep, searing pain that he seems to remember sucking a lot worse when he was younger, but this time, knowing how he earned it makes it feel entirely different. 

"Five," he croaks, his voice sticking in his chest in a deep, nearly pained rumble. "Y- y- y--" he stops himself, his voice skipping in his throat in a way that would usually leave him deeply ashamed, but with his brain so completely out of connect with his body, he just takes a beat to collect himself before finishing strong. "Your turn?" 

Even completely fucked out, Diego's hand finds Five's thigh and gropes him there, determined to perform. Determined to succeed. 

Five glances down at the hand on his thigh, allowing a soft smile to twitch onto his lips at the intention behind it. He vanishes for a second, returning with a glass of what looked like his scotch in one hand, the other on a cup placed beside their thighs. "Drink," He says, lifting the glass to Diego's mouth and letting him take a little more than a sip. The scotch was just to clear the cum from his throat, to wake him up. After, he replaces it with the other glass-- crisp, cool water.

Only when Diego finishes the cup does Five set both glasses down, taking as many breaks for him to breathe and sit as he asked for, plucking the hair tie from his bun so Five may run his fingers through Diego's hair, which he does without hesitation while he drinks. Slow, indulgent pets drag through Diego's hair, and Five sets the glass to the side once it's emptied. 

"You're not going to suck my cock, Diego," Five says softly, his voice a rumble in his chest as he turns to straddle Diego's legs. He makes sure the man is steady, doesn't dare lean his weight on him or hurt him, but Five takes a seat just over his brother's thighs so he can look him look him in the eye easier. His hands curl to cradle his jaw, thumbs tracing the warm curve of his cheek, even as his fingers scratch through Diego's beard like he was a beloved pet, not his literal brother. 

Leaning forward, Five presses a kiss gently to Diego's lips, absolutely no sign of hunger or fire or pressure, just his lips pressing almost chastely to his brother's, hands smoothing down his shoulders; "You're going to fuck me," Five says, watching him with heavy green eyes.

Diego is so completely out of it, between the petting and the tender care, that it doesn't really sink in exactly what Five said. He heard his words and understood what they meant, but the implications behind them, the fact that Five is admitting defeat doesn't occur to him. That much is clear from the fact that he doesn't react smugly or pompously, or even lunge himself at Five with the animal heat of a man who's been kept on the edge for seven days straight. 

Instead, his thumb just rubs over Five's hip with a creaky, soft, "Okay."

It's the best Five could have hoped for. He knows without a doubt that the swaggering and smugness will come later, but he doesn't have to face any of it now, not yet. Not when Diego's so detached from reality, his head so completely fogged over with the haze of pleasure. Diego picks up the glass of scotch and steals the rest of it in a single swallow, coughing slightly when it interacts with his raw throat, and his dick reminds him of its presence with an achy throb between his legs, pressed up tight against Five's ass. 

He knows he should probably stand up, pick up Five and carry him to the couch, but the idea of getting his legs under him feels like an astronomical challenge. He still feels light-headed, and like parts of his body might actually be full of air rather than blood and bone. Inexplicably, he feels like if he tried, he wouldn't be strong enough to pick up Five, despite the fact that he probably only weighs about a hundred pounds and Diego can lift over twice that on a good day. Five has a way of making him feel small, weak and powerless that Diego shouldn't like, given his history with the feeling-- but when it's Five, it also makes him feel _safe_. 

Five doesn't move until Diego seems ready for it, even after he's agreed to it. He can see there's still a haze in his eye, a need for direction that only Five could provide right now. He could fuck him on the floor, that was certainly an optionba little uncomfortable for him. During his victory lap, Diego definitely deserved comfort. His hands land on the man's shoulders, and with a rush of cool air, enough to make goosebumps raise up Diego's arms, they reappear on the sofa just a few short feet away, in the same position they were in before. 

Diego's legs stretched in front of him take the majority of the space, and Five is perched on top of him, knees wedged into the cushions. Those broad hands smooth down his arms and over his throat, warm and firm and present, rubbing awareness into the limbs until Diego could feel warm, too. "You take it easy. I'll handle it."

Tugging at his tie, Five loosens the silk before shrugging out of his blazer. If it was a matter of getting entirely naked, he'd prefer not to because he genuinely didn't trust his siblings wouldn't barge back in here, and he'd rather not give them the honor of his naked body if they didn't earn it. So, he plucks open a few buttons on his shirt and rolls up his sleeves to above the elbow, letting the tie hang loose around his neck.

"Do you want me to undress you, or are you cold?" Five asks, "Just nod or shake. You don't have to talk," He says, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt to skim his nails lightly down his chest, feather-light tracing around the waistband of his pants, even as he rolls his hips down to grind selfishly into Diego's thighs.

Diego is taken by that luxurious grind for a moment, his head pressing back into the cushions with a groan. He's been so hard for so long that he's almost gone numb, but when Five applies friction, heat surges up into his stomach and grips him by the throat. His hands come up desperately to Five's hips, grabbing and holding on desperately, arching his hips up to participate. 

" _Five_ ," his voice breaks. He doesn't respond to his question, barely even hears it, and certainly doesn't register it.

"You're right. Who has the time?" Five agrees, voice devoid of mocking coldness. It's almost playful. 

Slim fingers make quick work of his belt and the fly of his own pants, and he raises his hips up, breaking that beautiful connection, to pull his pants down and off of himself completely, kicking them to the side followed by his shoes. When he grinds down into Diego again, the younger man can feel something hard and warm, buried inside of his brother, grinding down in addition to his pale hips and smooth ass.

"Are you-- jesus _christ_ ," Diego groans when he feels the base of a plug grind into his trapped cock, arching painfully against the zipper of his trousers. He reaches around him, pulling him forward with his hand on his hip to press against the base, grinding it deeper inside Five, and his dick gives another painful pulse between his legs. 

The fact that Five came to this _prepared_ makes Diego's head spin. He pulls slightly on the base of it just to feel Five's muscles clench up to try and hold it inside, and he groans in his throat, which aches around the noise. "You-- fuck, tell-- tell me how-- you put it in, please--"

Five's throat half-closes as Diego hungrily pulls him forward and begins pressing and poking at it, as as if he'd never experienced one before, nonetheless seen one in use. In all fairness, Five wasn't fully an expert on it, himself, but he was also a man of practicality, of planning, and he knew full well how this afternoon was going to turn out, and he didn't want to fuck around when it did.

He doesn't expect Diego to be so goddamn coherent so soon, though. Coherent enough to grind that hilt into him, the tip plunging against his aching, hypersensitive walls almost mercilessly, enough to make him grunt from deep in his gut. "I took it slow," Five answers, finally, once the initial trill of pleasure leaves his veins and allows him some sentience, "Fingered myself open while on all fours. Not unlike how you were," Five nods back to the floor, the space they once occupied, "But I couldn't fit enough. You are a very specific need to fill," Five admits through clenched teeth, without much heat. Five holds himself up with his hands on either side of Diego's head, and he grinds back into his hand, hips dragging across his brother's. "I found this a while ago but never worked up the courage to use it. So thanks for that."

"Fuck," Diego moans, his head falling back against the cushions as he pictures Five on his knees, fingering himself open. Whatever clarity his mind had for one crystalline moment is immediately blasted back out of his ears when his cock sends another painful clench through his stomach, and his hands return to Five's hips. "Five, Five _please_ \--"

A mean part of Five wants to make him use his words and be specific, but the impatient part of him reminds that Diego's already done his work for the day, and at this point he's just punishing himself. Raising up on his hips, Five arches his back to slot his ass against Diego's hand again, the metallic base tapping into his fingers, "By all means," He mutters, voice tight with barely-controlled hunger, simmering just under the surface, "Unless you need me to..?"

Diego quickly unglues his hands from Five's hips, and undoes his pants with shaking hands. His cock springs out, practically purple it's so hard, with dark lines cut into it from where his pants imprinted against his skin for so long. He hadn't bothered with underwear, and his dick is so sensitive now he kind of regrets not having that extra layer. 

Reaching back around Five, he tries to pull the plug back out of him, but Five's muscles instinctively clench up again from the friction and try to hold it inside. The moment of resistence is already too much for Diego, who gives an animal whine of frustration until Five relaxes his muscles and he's able to tug it out on the second try. 

Immediately, slick seeps out of Five's overprepared hole, and Diego collects it in his palm, using the lube warmed by Five's own body to slick himself up. Even the pressure of his own hand on his cock feels like too much after so long. He's spent so much time jerking off the last week that his body very nearly rejects the sensation, throbbing miserably in his palm. 

Five watches, hungrily, his stomach aching deep in his core where his hole was now empty. The plug in his brother's hand, it was easy to see why Five had held onto it so tightly-- The base was pointedly thinner than the heavy swollen knob that comprised the rest of it, even if the gentle incline of the bulb would have helped Five situate himself initially. 

Prying Diego's hands away from his cock, Five leans over him, dragging his tongue over his lip as he looks at the line of his brother's body, swollen and hitching and twitching with each sharp, hard-earned gasp of breath, "Let me take care of you," He says firmly, offering no room for argument before he raises his hips, position Diego's cock at his hole, then plunging in with little more than a shifting twist of his hips, taking Diego to the hilt and letting out a noise like he was punched once he did, all the breath leaving him in a sharp jab.

"Oh, _thank god_ ," Five moans shamelessly, tipping his head back as his entire body clenches and unclenches around Diego's cock, hungry and relieved to be filled for the first time in one whole week.

Diego doesn't make a sound at first. His mouth drops open and his eyes screw shut, and he holds Five's hips hard enough to bruise them as he pulls them down to meet him, his own arching up to meet. The pleasure is indescribable, after so many days in a row with nothing but his own fucking hand, this feels like nirvana, like he could live in this pleasure for the rest of his life. 

It's not until Five lifts himself up on shaking knees and drops back down that Diego makes a noise, and it's the pained _yowl_ of a man who had been pushed to the limit again and again over the course of a week. The friction of Five's silky walls moving against him feels like fire, lancing up into his stomach and chest, forming a pit there that yawns open and consumes him. 

Honestly it's a wonder that he doesn't cum on the spot, but he's so oversensitive at this point that it very nearly hurts when Five starts moving in slow, measured strokes. Both of them are so strung out and exhausted that there's no energy left for the frantic fucking both of them had been expecting when they started this bet at the beginning of the week. 

"Five!" he shouts, sweat starting to glisten in the hollow of his throat as his body burns up from their connection. "Oh _FUCK_ \--"

This is going to be quick, Five can feel it in his gut as apparently as Diego is telling him with every ounce of his. Heavy hands on his hips clutch and dig into smooth, white skin, but Five doesn't give the honor of allowing either of them a break. Hungrily, Five's hips begin to move despite the burning in his gut that makes him want to stay there, filled and taut. 

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Five begins to raise and lower in a steady clip, and the glide of Diego's cock takes him by surprise each time. Heavy gasps pull out his lips, breathing going from an even control to a haggard pant in little more than two strokes, as Diego seats inside him fully. Their hips slap as he leans forward to get more momentum, his head ducking to press heavily into Diego's shoulder.

Diego's hands guide him down, his hips snap furiously forward when Five withdraws, and the sound of skin smacking skin punctuates the chorus of ragged breaths and pathetic moans that had filled the library, "Diego-- _fuck_ \-- Diego--" His cock was leaking pre, caught between their stomachs as Five grinds and snaps, obsessively picking up speed.

He didn't want his to be over quickly, didn't want this to end just as soon as it had begun only for them to go their separate ways, but instinct had taken over, hunger for the past week making Five selfish, greedy and sloppy. Lips find Diego's throat and bite into the sweat-slick skin there, as Five moans and his entire body seizes.

Diego wants desperately to thrust up to meet Five in more than the weak little bounces of his hips that he can manage, slightly off-tempo with his lover. He wants to pull him down by the hips, where his hands have gone weak with pleasure against his skin. He wants to unhinge his jaw and eat him alive, he's so recklessly turned on, but all he can do is lay there and hold him, take what Five has to give. 

His head is too cottony, his stomach too full with pleasure, and Five commands every single part of him all at once from his perch atop his hips like a king on a throne. He's helpless, boneless and brainless, completely at the mercy of his much more capable brother, and with every drag of Five's channel over his aching cock he can feel himself falling inexorably closer to the release he's been aching for, for _days_ now. 

"Five-- Five, _Five_ \--" he chants, his voice hoarse, his throat bared, gasping out a soft little _ah, ah, ah,_ with every thrust that isn't accompanied by Five's name whispered like a desperate prayer. "Please, _please_ , oh my god--"

He's not sure what he's begging for. Permission to cum? He's so painfully oversensitive that cumming doesn't even feel like a _possibility_ , he's wound up so tight that some stupid animal part of him is almost _afraid_ to cum, afraid that the sensation will be so intense that he'll simultaneously be hurt by it, and never again be able to achieve it again. He's just pleading for the sake of it, Five's name pouring out of his mouth like a hymn to a furious god. 

The chanting of his name strikes daggers of pleasure into Five's gut, igniting his core with fire as his thrusts begin to increase their clip. It consumes him, those flames, the prickle of heat and pleasure clinging to his jaw and up his neck, every sore muscle screaming for release, every haggard half-breath taken from and given to the man beneath him. Five's breath is virtually nonexistent, his lips sealed over Diego's throat. 

Hips rolling at a demanding pace, Five pushes himself up from his brother all at once and leaves a pretty purple mark on the side of his neck as he disengages. Slim fingers press into his chest, digging into the muscle until he can feel Diego's pulse beneath the skin. Five's back bows to the pressure of taking Diego to the hilt again, able to feel the grind of his hips with every stroke, every lurching twitch of Diego's cock shifting his guts as Five systematically tears them both apart with his pace.

"Diego," Five whispers with a voice that sounds more like static than words. Clearing his throat, he tries again, eyebrows furrowed low over his eyes, "It's okay. Diego. It's _okay_ \--"

Five's voice breaks with every other word, a roaring filling his ears so loudly he's consumed by it, until he completely becomes little more than an animal driven by instinct and lust and hunger. Little more than the predator he so eagerly claims to be, Five's thighs begin to shake as thick, white beads of pre collect at the tip of his swollen, aching cock, leaking freely without so much as a whisper of contact, holding on by a thread for Diego. This was all for him, Five's eyes and heart full, affection wrapped behind a filthy vision of sweat and flushed, heavy breaths.

Diego cums. Maybe all he really needed was permission, after all. 

The worst part is that it isn't the kind of orgasm he was expecting. He'd hoped that his first time buried inside Five after so many days would result in the kind of leg-shaking, eyes-rolling-back, white-out intense pleasure that would send him to the fucking moon-- but it's not. In fact, it's largely unsatisfying and nearly painful, punching him in the gut and winding him. It digs its fingers into his balls and twists, an ache shooting up his back that seizes his jaw shut like it'd been wired, and he barely makes a sound.

His thighs burn and his cock twitches, and he lets out a miserable sob as oversensitivity verges past pleasure-pain into just _­pain_ pain. Five can sense the change in his tone of voice and stops moving instantly, putting aside his own pleasure for Diego's comfort, despite the fact that he'd suffered just as much as his brother. He doesn't speak yet, giving Diego the space to find his dignity again and grab hold with both hands. 

Diego just lays there panting for a moment, waiting for the intensity to fade, waiting for the pinpricks to stop assaulting his skin and the throbbing to go dull and soft in his gut. His hands are still clamped around Five's hips like a steel bear trap as he breathes through it, but it's when Five makes a move to try and pull off of him that Diego's entire headspace shifts. He feels that drag of his brother's walls against his cock, and he realizes with a doglike whine that he's _still hard_. It shouldn't surprise him, given how long he'd been pent up, how long he'd waited. 

Every muscle in his body seizes and his hands pull Five back down, unwilling to lose the heat of his body, and when Five's hips make contact with his own again and those scant couple inches he'd managed to pull off are once more sheathed, Diego's gut implodes. _That's_ the pleasure he was waiting for, the bloom of heat that radiates through his entire body. Given just a moment to catch his breath, he's revitalized and once again ravenous. 

Without thinking-- there's no room in his head anymore for rational thought-- he flips them over. Five's back hits the cushions, made warm where Diego's body had just been occupying the space a second ago, and like a feral animal in heat, his brother _fucks_ him. 

His hips snap forward, his body curled up and hunched over Five like he's trying to protect him from rival mates, his pace is immediately feverish and carnal grunts and growls faucet out of his mouth with his teeth pressed to Five's throat. He feels, sounds and moves like a beast on top of Five, completely taken by his pleasure but still hovering in that brainless fog that Five puts him under. He doesn't have enough brain power to think about managing his strength, to think about taking it easy on Five, he just tears into him with bruising hands and a rough clip that shakes the couch under them. 

Diego takes over so fast it makes Five's head spin. If he thought he was feeling wild before it was a fever dream to the monster destroying him now. Shaking hands raise to grab at Diego's shoulders, fitting under the collar of his shirt and biting at the skin once he finds purchase, milky thighs spread to allow him more space to work, the adjustment sending that cock deeper into his gut, and Five presses his entire body back into the couch for support as he moans, loudly, blissfully.

 _This_ was why he'd spent the afternoon prepped and loose and slick, dripping without a single soul but him knowing what he had planned. The wet slap of skin on skin is punctuated now by biting moans and desperate growls, coming from both Diego and himself in some animalistic display of ferocity.

"Fuck! _FUCK_ , Diego--!" Five chants as his entire body curls up tight. Maybe he had been close before, there was something to be said for the slow grind of skin on skin, but this was nothing like it. The pleasure on another level, the pain on another level, each coalescing and combining to send Five to another planet. He can feel the burning pinprick of tears in his eyes, his vision going hazy and wet as he barely manages to keep Diego in his line of sight. He's consumed by the man, enamored with the man, and as Five's hips twist up to meet him, he allows himself to succumb to the shaking tremor of his body and be claimed.

Diego rests on one elbow, his forearm tucked and pillowed under Five's neck and his hand gripping the life out of the arm rest on the couch, and his other hand finds those bruised fingerprints around Five's hip, holding him down with incredible force and strength as he plows into him frantically. His forehead ducks against Five's throat, his breath fanning down his chest as he moans with every exhale, pleasure sending his whole body ablaze. 

He can't bring himself to form enough of a word even to cry Five's name despite how the cry of _Five, Five, Five, Five_ consumes every living, breathing cell in his body. He can hear his brother's name in the thud of his own heartbeat, in the static electricity that runs across his skin. He can taste it in the sweat that rolls down his own forehead and fills the seam of his lips, he can smell it in the musk they're building up between them. 

Five exists in every corner of Diego's mind, crowding out insecurity and fear and dignity and language. There's no room in any part of him for anything but Five and the way he smells, the way he feels shuddering under him, the way he sounds crying Diego's name. 

This time when Diego cums, it's with the bone-shattering, earth-quaking pleasure he'd been expecting the first time. He bellows like a lion, pouring into Five and making him even sloppier than before as two loads mix messily with lube and sweat and leak out of him onto the cushions as Diego continues to fuck him right through it. 

Five doesn't realize he's cumming even until after he does. Every nerve is burning with pleasure, every synapse of his brain devoted to this moment, the charge that had settled between them like two carnivores carving into one another. He gives and Diego takes, offering space, offering skin-- his neck is bared, his eyes slip closed, and Five's entire body seizes even as Diego continues to fuck into him as if nothing had changed. Maybe it hadn't. Nothing felt like it had changed.

Teenage hormones and pent-up aggression allow his cock to wane for only a minute, barely a second, before the drive of Diego's hips has blood filling his flesh and fire pooling in his gut. "Shit-- Fuck, Diego--" It feels selfish to drive him to continue, selfish of him to demand more of the other man when his brother had already given him so much; but Five is selfish at his core, motivated by himself and his hunger. This was a different type of hunger than he was used to, but it applied the same.

Greedy hands tug at Diego's shirt, hitching it up and trying to tear it off of him. Five wants at his skin, wants at the taut vision of tanned muscle and crosshatching scars, wants to feel and see and experience his brother in his glory even as he's filled with cum and leaking over the sofa. Allison would have words about it, no doubt--unfortunately, Allison was very far away from Five's mind.

"Come on," he whispers urgently, hungrily, hips rutting up to meet the animal he'd once called Diego, breathing hot and urgent, "Take it again. One more, one more--" He claws greedily at Diego, a hand raising to twist in his hair, to raise his head and slot their mouths together as he pours his lust and hunger down his throat, catching plush lips between cruel teeth and biting.

One more, Diego registers, and complies without thinking. His head exists in a strange and fuzzy space, registering words and their meanings in the subconscious part of his mind that has been glazed over with instinct, forced to hunker down in a vault at the back of his mind and wait out the storm that has claimed the rest of its host. He's arguably ferocious, and an outsider looking in might even mistake him for dominant, but there's nobody piloting the ship in Diego's mind. His subject to Five's command, and he obeys without question. 

Pulling out of Five he flips him over again, belly down on the sofa and enters him again, Five's loose hole giving a sloppy sound as it's claimed once more Diego's hand comes down on the back of his neck, but despite it being a hold that would usually display a confident claim at least and outright hostility at worst, there's nothing but deep affection in the way Diego pins him down-- for efficiency, not for pride. 

His thrusts are sharp and deep, Five's body bouncing on the couch under him with the force of them, held in place by Diego's hand while he rails him into the cushions like he's trying to snap him in half. His own half-flagged cock swells back to full hardness with very little effort, and he shouts his pleasure to the empty living room, his voice absorbed and muffled by the dreadful old velvet curtains that lined every window. Those would have to be the next thing to go, whenever this happened again, Five wanted to hear his voice echo throughout the room. 

"Oh my _god_ \--" Five's moan is a guttural wail he pours into the cushions he's shoved into. His voice is muffled and full, his breath heavy and clouding his vision as he tucks into that little space between arm rest and pillowtop. He raises his ass between strokes, props himself up on his knees, and the newfound angle makes it hard to breathe. Diego's cock strikes home so deep Five can feel it in his spine, can feel him slotting into him again and again.

Cum slips from his slack hole to drip down his balls, smearing into the couch-- and still, Five doesn't care. Five has no sense of himself at all, no sense for anything of his reputation, his appearances. Diego uses him just as Five is using him in kind, each mindless and feral and consumed by each other. He can feel Diego's hand on his neck as tangibly as he feels his lungs burning, the fire in him growing to roar in his ears and join the creaking chorus of the couch as they drag it reluctantly across the floor. 

With every stroke, Diego hits that tight bundle of nerves that makes Five seize. His back and shoulders clench, his stomach tightens, and Five turns his head to moan into the open air of the room as Diego's balls hit the curve of his ass, slapping wetly into his skin.

"Harder, Diego, _fuck_ \-- holy-- _shit_ , Diego, _yes_ \--" The praise and demand leaves him in equal parts, rendered by his indecision, the constant tug of war between hunger and satisfaction.

Diego's hands both come down on Five's shoulders, holding onto him there and grinding him into the cushions like he's gripping a bucking bronco. One of his feet finds the ground for purchase and he gives Five exactly what he asked for-- he gives it to him harder. He gives it to him hard enough that the couch voices its rejection of their coupling, even brand new as it is, groaning under them as its legs grind grooves into the antique hardwood with every thrust.

Five's ass is bright red just from the spanking it's recieving from his younger brother, as Diego puts every inch of himself into his thrusts. From his feet to his hips to his cock to his hands, he leans into and over and inside of Five. With Five's stocking feet bent at the knees, toes pointing skyward, it's all he can do to ride it out and take what Diego has to give him. 

He drops down to his belly on top of Five, and the third time he cums is with their frames slotted together like two puzzle pieces, the curve of Five's back fitting perfectly into the concave of Diego's arched form. One of the arms at his shoulders curls up under his chest not to choke him but just to embrace him, holding him as close as two bodies can physically be. 

Five cums in unison as his entire body sings. Pleasure and stinging pain mingle together in a beautiful slurry of feeling that sinks its fingers into his gut and drags him deep into a pit of hunger and exhaustion as he spills himself for the second time in so many minutes. It had to be longer, surely, had to be more time between then and now-- but it had passed so quickly, in such a whirlwind hurricane of skin and sweat and sound that Five barely remembers the minutes as they happened, barely knows if he'd be able to wind back time for a replay, even if he wanted to. He wouldn't know when to stop.

Wet breath coalesces on the modern sofa's surface, and the roaring in Five's ears slowly begins to settle into a dull throbbing heartbeat, an echo of his own beating in his chest, as the world begins to come into focus. He can feel Diego flattened against him, can feel cum dripping wetly between his thighs. Five can't help but feel disgusting and used by the ordeal, but also can't bring himself to care. 

There's no strength in either of them, and now more than ever Five wishes he'd just bit the bullet and teleported them to Diego's room, where they could at least fall asleep together in a pile of their own mess, to worry about at a future date. As it was, they'd have to clean up. 

"Fuck," Five whispers, whether in realization or in adoration it was hard to tell. Groaning muscles turn his head to the side, and the air of the room is almost too-cold against the sweat-slick surface of his face. " _Fuck_ , Diego," He repeats again, and it's definitely praise that time, a hand reaching behind him to curl around Diego's neck, fingers settling in his hair as he tightens the knot they'd made of their bodies. He doesn't want to move, not yet.

  
"Yeah," Diego croaks in reply. He knows he's probably too heavy to just lay on top of Five like this, but despite the slight wheeze in his voice, Five seems perfectly content to be flattened into a pancake under his much larger brother. Diego sighs contentedly and presses kisses into his brother's exposed, sweaty shoulder. 

Coherence is slowly returning to him, and as it does, the exhaustion sets in. Sweat is drying and cooling on his body, leaving him feeling sticky and clammy, and without the activity to keep their bodies warm, the heat is slowly siphoning off of them. The parlor suddenly feels so very chilled. 

"Think you can zap us upstairs, or should I carry you?" Diego croaks, recognizing the soreness in his throat again for the first time since his brain totally shut off. 

Face pulling into an unfortunate grimace, Five just nods as his arms curl around Diego's neck. It was fine. He'd have to zap back upstairs once he made sure Diego was comfortably asleep, but he could do that without disrupting him-- The house was drafty, and they were all used to putting up with much worse circumstances than a draft without complaint.

So despite the screaming in his bones and the deep ache in his muscles, Five coils around Diego like a snake and manages to teleport them directly onto Diego's bed, the unbroken in, uncomfortable cushions replaced with Diego's fantastic new mattress as effortlessly as slipping into a favorite pair of sweatpants. 

"Do you need water, or...?" Five's voice sounds far away even to his own ears, ears filled with the cotton of satiated bliss that had permeated his brain, "I can... get you some...?" He offers, squirming slightly beneath Diego not out of discomfort, but the need to provide.

Still doesn't unwind his limbs from the larger man, though.

"I don't need anything," Diego murmurs as he rolls off of Five and curls around him, without even worrying about the mess they left behind in the living room. That's future Diego and Five's problem. He buries his nose in Five's hair as he lazily pulls the tie the rest of the way off his body and throws it to the ground.

Wrapping his arms around Five, he tugs him into his chest with a softly spoken, "Just you." 

The pesky warmth that always seems to sets in when his family is concerned blooms in Five's chest again, and he turns his face into the mattress and the warm, heavy weight of Diego's arm to hide the pleased look that he doesn't quite catch before he makes.

"Go to sleep, Diego," Five mutters under his breath, devoid of anger and just a little pleased, "You're getting soft."

Diego _is_ soft, and he does sleep. 


	8. Epilogue

Waking up with an erection at this point is just par for the course, for Diego. He feels it throbbing between his legs before he's even made it to full consciousness, and he groans uncomfortably as he realizes that getting back to sleep will be impossible at this point. He'll have to roll onto his back, rub one out, and then get on with his daily schedule while he waits for Five to inevitably summon him for another round in their game-- 

Diego's eyes open as soon as the thought drifts across his mind, along with the realization that it isn't reality. He sees Five's shoulder beside him, curled up in bed, breathing deeply and soundly just a few inches away from him, and he remembers the night they shared just hours ago. Experimentally, he swallows, and sure enough his throat aches high and tight in his soft palate. He remembers sucking off Klaus-- or was it Ben? And he remembers going down on Luther. He remembers having his mouth forced down over Luther's cock by Five's capable hand... 

He remembers Five throwing the bet. He remembers _winning_. If it could be called winning, considering he didn't even register it until the next morning. 

No, fuck it, it counts as winning. He suffered for a goddamn week, and made it out the other side, sticking it out longer that Five. Sure, maybe Five is currently living through a toxic hellstorm of hormones that make him kind of inherently at a disadvantage when it comes to matters of withstanding sexual conquest, but _still_. That _counts_. 

His cock throbs again, painfully between his legs, as all the details come flooding back. Five riding him on the couch. Flipping him over to fuck him again. Flipping him over _again_ to fuck him _again_. Teleporting upstairs-- had they cleaned up? One subtle lift of the blankets and a waft of salty, sex-scented air is sent up like a pair of bellows breathing life into a fire, and his dick aches between his legs. They hadn't cleaned up, which means Five is still slick and sloppy and probably still pretty loose from last night. 

Chancing waking him up, Diego rolls a little closer. Five breathes in deeply and stirs ever so slightly as Diego's bulk leans into his, and Diego patiently waits for his breathing to deepen again before he very delicately slots his middle finger between Five's cheeks. He finds his hole soft, pliant and still a little damp. Diego's cock leaks and pulses as he's reminded that they don't have to fucking wait anymore. 

Licking his palm, he coats himself in a thin but serviceable layer of saliva that'll only last long enough to keep him from getting chapped as he presses against and slides inside of his sleeping brother, immediately gathering up the slick that had been warmed all night inside him. Five's walls part like butter, soft with sleep and recent plunder, and Diego can't help but groan as he curls around the smaller man's back. 

Beneath him, Five had been having possibly the first genuine sleep in a long while. A night uninterrupted by messy dreams or an ache deep in his gut that makes the rest of him reverberate with pain and anguish. It was dreamless, effortless, and he'd slipped into it barely seconds after he'd hit the pillow, not stirring or moving once that he could remember, no midnight trips to the kitchen, no hourly breaks for water or security checks-- a safe, deep, _incredible_ night's sleep in the arms of his lover.

Five doesn't move as Diego seats himself inside of him, although his brows twitch, his lips part in a quiet gasp, and a delicate whine leaves his throat in unison with Diego's groan. Five's breath catches in his throat, disturbing the serene peace he'd cultivated. But he doesn't move, doesn't flip over in fury to chastise Diego, doesn't even open his eyes. If he's awake, he's pretending not to be-- but in truth, he was still deep under the cover of sleep, his eyes flicking behind closed lids.

A breath leaves him as soft as a sigh, fingers tightening in the sheets clutched in them lightly. Five's body clenches and twitches around Diego's cock, even as he parts easily for him. Still, he doesn't move, and certainly doesn't wake up.

For a moment Diego thinks he's surely woken him, but Five's breaths are still deep and his body is still limp with sleep. It doesn't even feel possible to have Five so completely _vulnerable_ , when he's always on such high alert. Diego's chest throbs with affection as the level of trust Five has in him to allow himself to be this vulnerable strikes him all at once. 

Wrapping an arm around Five's waist, he rests his nose in his hair and pulls his hips back by a few inches before pressing back inside. His stomach clenches hotly when he feels Five's body once more open to accept him, soft and willing. He sighs down the back of his neck, knowing this peace won't last long, Five will wake up eventually and probably hiss curses at him-- though the chances of him actually pulling away are slim. 

Spreading his hand gently over Five's chest, he presses them together until his back is flush with Diego's chest, and his thrusts reach a steady, languid crawl. He focuses more on the way it feels to slide into Five with every lazy roll of his hips rather than slugging through to get himself off. He pays attention to the way Five's muscles flutter and pulse around him, weak with sleep and ineffective. He groans softly in his nose, trying desperately to stay quiet-- but after a week without being inside of Five, to finally have it gifted to him on a silver platter has made him insatiable. 

Five's breathing goes shaky and weak as Diego sheaths himself inside. He's still warm, but it's different now, still comfortable, but aching. Pleasure spikes in his gut and makes his cock fill until each brush of those hips pushes him to grind into the blanket still wrapped tautly around them both. Diego's breath on the back of his neck elicits goosebumps to trickle down his arms, unseen or realized by their owner.

" _Diego_ ," For a second it sounds like Five is awake, and if not for the soft, dreamy tone, he might actually think he was. But the name is whispered so openly, free of shame or tension, or the tight grit of expectation, that it can't be a conscious choice. It's the blissful dark of dreamless sleep twisting into hunger, the corruption of something innocent and relieving into something warm and overwhelming; despite being so soft and so used, Five is still so small, and Diego so big. For all their joined slick and their night prior, Five is still tight around Diego's cock, and though he spreads easily, it's clear Diego fills him to the brim each time.

Fingers tighten in the sheets as a shift in angle makes Five gasp. His head tilts up slightly, cheeks burning pretty and pink as he leans into the warm circle of Diego's arm, cock twitching with each thrust. There's the start of a furrow in his brow, the beginnings of consciousness in the way his stomach began to lurch. Even Five's thigh twitches and spreads, as he shifts forward in Diego's grasp to offer a better angle; Hungry even while unconscious, sleep betraying the deep-seated need he might have otherwise held to his chest.

When Five fucked his mouth in their father's office chair, he thought they couldn't sink any lower. Then when Five fucked his mouth in an alleyway he thought _that_ was as low as they could go. Then he made him suck their brothers right in front of him and he was certain _that_ was the deepest point to which he could sink. Somehow, he still manages to surprise himself with the depths to which he can plummet. 

Fucking his unconscious brother has got to be a new low. He gently hooks his other arm under Five's head, replacing the soft pillow with his own hard bicep as he feels Five start to wake up. That arm braces across his chest like the bar that holds a person in for a roller coaster, and grips him loosely by the shoulder, his other arm fastened similarly across his waist. Wrapped up around Five like a winter coat, his thrusts increase in depth, if not in speed. Too much speed would jostle Five awake too fast, and he wants to enjoy this sleepy, incoherent and deeply honest Five for as long as he can. 

He rests his forehead against the back of Five's shoulder, panting through his open mouth, his gut tensing every time he pushes into Five to the hilt. He's so tight it takes his breath away, he can feel Five's rim tug at him every time he pulls back, and then tense up without fail when he pushes back in, massaging the length of his cock with every thrust. He loses these details in the frenzy when he puts Five face down over the nearest object and rails him within an inch of his life. 

" _Diego_..." There it is again. The gentle sigh of his name, the soft fluttering of breath into the air. Heavy lids finally open to take in the foggy half-light of the morning, and as Diego seats himself to the hilt again, a breath leaves Five so softly he wonders if he dreamt it. He blinks once, twice, fluttering and confused as another moan is softly dragged from his throat as those hips pull out, then in, plunging pleasure deep into his gut, cock twitching-- 

Five realizes all at once he's being _fucked_ and-- all at once-- he moans, thoughts reaching reality and convalescing into just what the fuck was happening. Diego had fucked him awake. It was Diego's breath in his ear that made goosebumps run down his spine, Diego's arms that felt like a vice. Diego was the one who had taken his perfect, stupid, thoughtless sleep and twisted it with pleasure and adrenaline until his gut wrenched and his breath hitched. It was Diego who still held on and buried himself to the hilt, even as Five's hand clutched at the sheets and he tucked his face into the arm around his chest, "Seriously?" He whispers, but the case is hard to make when his voice is so tight. "Are you-- _seriously_ \--?" Indignation is hard to give credit to when his brows knit together and his face burns, and his hips jerk back onto his cock.

He feels pleasure in every inch of his body, the slow burning kind that comes from work, the kind that fills every nerve ending and capillary after luxuriating in it. It's the kind of pleasure that has Five shaking, his head fuzzy, tongue heavy. He tries to twist in those arms, to free himself from that grasp for no reason other than pride; And maybe that's why it doesn't work, hand raising to sink nails gently into Diego's forearm even as another agonized moan leaves him, sucking in a shaking breath as punctuation-- " _Fuck_ \--" He whimpers, kittenish and soft.

"Yeah _seriously_ ," Diego's voice is also grumbly and incoherent with sleep, his words spoken directly against the skin of Five's throat as he curls around him. His hips snap quicker now that Five's awake and he doesn't have to worry about breaking the illusion, and he growls deep in his chest at the sudden shift in pace. "I woke up with wood." 

As if that's an excuse. He knows Five will take it in stride, though. He can tell he already has. 

He untwists his arm from around Five's waist, still holding him firm across his chest, and wraps it around Five's leaking cock instead, stroking him roughly in time with his thrusts. He can feel how much Five has already dribbled in his sleep, aching hard and unable to control his reactions whatsoever. He's so honest while he's asleep, and it stokes a fire in Diego's stomach as he sneers a playful, slightly mean, "Why, you want me to stop? I could suck your cock instead."

At some point, Five is sure he's supposed to feel indignant. Lips parting sweetly, back craning, the increased pace and hand around his cock makes his entire body sing in pleasure, while Diego's words were cruel and biting into his neck. He deserved for Five to be indignant, Five _should_ have made Diego work for it-- but the entire last week had been making Diego _work for it_ , and truly Five was over it.

Why keep punishing himself just to give Diego the satisfaction, after all? If Five wanted to be fucked, he _deserved_ to be fucked, goddammit.

"No," Five purrs, the sound filling the room as his back arches. The curve of his ass slots into Diego's hips, and the new angle allows the larger man to seat himself in further, opening himself up more and more as his walls of expectation crumble. There was little point in having them; Diego had fucked him awake for God's sake. He'd truly taken him at his most vulnerable. " _Fuck_ me," Five commands imperiously with another giddy little half-laughing moan, head tipping back on the pillow, leaning back to watch Diego through hazy eyes.

Diego complies, wholeheartedly. He flips Five over onto his belly and rolls on top of him, and properly pounds his brother into the mattress under him. He holds himself up on his knees high enough that he can work his hand under him, hunched on top of his lover's much smaller body in order to wind a hand under him again and resume the quick pace of his strokes. 

"I'm gonna do this more often now," he tells Five with a groan in his throat, and he really has to focus enough to get his words out, he's so completely overwhelmed by the clench of Five's lazy muscles around him, still too tired to clamp down properly. Not to mention the _sound_ of Five's hole opening all soft around him, double dipping in his own sloppy seconds. He mouths and bites at his brother's soft shoulder, where his shirt has slipped down far enough for Diego to sink his teeth in, the knuckles of his hand punching the mattress on every downstroke over Five's length. "Gonna fuck you until you can't stand up after-- wanna fuck you in front of the others."

He would, too, if Five would let him. It's wishful thinking, but Five's entire body clenches at that, so hard Diego can feel it up his spine. His words make Five's eyes blow open, his hands fist in the sheets, and as his brother continues to tear into him like a mindless animal, he moans, loudly. 

His mouth works but no words come out, images of him bent over the breakfast table in front of Vanya, of Diego spreading his legs and sitting him on his lap in the study next to Klaus, of his face buried in Allison's lap while Diego fucks him from behind, of being held around the waist by Luther as Diego sandwiches him between them all flash into him at once.

"I had... ah....no idea... you were such.... a performer," Five moans through his words, sloppy and spoken through grit teeth and a will of iron. It took as much to get the words out, eyebrows knitting as sweat beads across his brow. Heat spikes into his brain with every heavy thrust into his gut, the hand trapped between them making his thighs clench and toes curl.

Breathing erratic, Five's hips lean back to rut back into that cock, thighs slipping in the mattress for purchase, finding none and half-forcing him to go flat against the mattress, Diego's weight bearing him down and burying him deep in the sheets.

"Woke up something in me you regret?" Diego grins smugly as he lays himself down on top of Five, blanketing his smaller body with his own. He's heavy, and almost suffocatingly warm, as he wraps his arms around underneath Five, wedging them between his body and the mattress in a tight bear hug that leaves him wheezing and breathless. It really puts into perspective how much bigger than him Diego is, as he completely winds his body around his brother's like a boa constrictor, his knees in the mattress acting as the only fulcrum for him to snap his hips down in a quick but shallow clip. 

He bites the side of Five's neck, groaning in his throat as his pleasure quickly climbs, feeling sticky and sweaty, pressed together too tightly, and devouring every second of contact with Five. 

Five can feel Diego's teeth in sharp contrast to the cloudy pleasure that fills the air, and his entire body goes tense again, confined beneath his brother's weight. "Diego," He whispers, half-intentionally, half-involuntarily, the word whining from his chest as pleasure makes him stupid and instinct makes him hungry. He doesn't have the brain for a witty rejoinder, doesn't have the brain for anything other than rutting back into the cock splitting him open, sucking in heavy, desperate breaths. 

" _Shit_ -" He hisses, as his entire body goes taut like a spring as Diego's hips begin to snap with eager fervor. Sleepy sex had been abandoned in lieu of a hungry tick, hips plunging forward and finding home again, and again, and _again_ , leaving Five to mouth wetly at the pillow beneath his head and moan desperately into the duvet. 

They could sense their building climax, and for Five, he tips over the edge without a word of warning, one deft twist of Diego's wrist sending him to nirvana as his world goes white, his body goes tense, and cum spills between the sheets and himself in wet, tacky streams, while his face buries itself into the pillow and he wails his brothers name, half-sobbing and twitching around the cock still tearing him open.

Diego follows seconds later, only adding to the mess inside of Five, leaving his brother feeling gooey and filthy when Diego pulls back out and it all slithers back out of his loose hole. For a moment, Diego just goes boneless on top of Five as they mutually catch their breath, until Diego finally unwinds the steel trap of his arms from around his brother's chest and and kneels up just to look at him for a second, spread out under him with his shirt rucked up to his waist and his hole red, shiny and leaking.

" _Damn_ ," he mutters, sitting on the backs of Five's thighs and digging his fingers indulgently past his rim, easily stuffing three of them inside without a whisper of challenge or difficulty. "Really did a number on you. Wanna take a shower?"

Five gags at the fingers shoving him full again so soon after their orgasm, hypersensitive nerves making his toes curl and thighs clench. Even his hole clenches around Diego's fingers, but he's been fucked so open and loose that the grasp barely registers as more than a flutter, making Five whimper and curse beneath him. The muscles in his shoulders clench like he wanted to push himself up, but was unable to.

His mouth his wet and shiny when he looks over his shoulder at Diego, eyes narrowing in a hazy, dark glare, "Asshole," He mutters crossly, dragging his tongue over his lips, then nodding, "I-- Fuck--" His hips twitch back. Greedy. "I need one."

Diego is more than smug when he picks Five up from the bed and carries him down the hall to the showers. Ordinarily Five would protest, but his muscles are so shaky and loose from such an early-morning fuck, and nobody else is in the hallway to witness it. Diego at least puts him on his feet in the shower and gives him the dignity of taking off his own shirt while Diego turns on the water and strips off his pants. 

"You know you gotta tell the rest of the family, right?" he asks as they step under the water together. "It was part of the rules. _You_ made it part of the rules, if I'm remembering right."

Five leans heavily against the tile, even as the water warms to the point of almost burning. The contrast of cool and hot might be something others would hate, but it invigorates Five's skin in a way he can appreciate, after the muddy warmth of their flurry of fucking, the night before and this morning coalescing into one sloppy memory. The glare he gives Diego is unamused and toothless.

" 'Let your peace be a victory', Diego," Five quotes engimatically as he reaches past him for the soap. It would take him some time to clean himself out, and he squeezes a healthy amount onto his own hands to lather and scrub himself down with.

"Bullshit," Diego says, slicking his hair back with both hands. "If I'd lost, you'd be making me make that announcement, and don't even _try_ to tell me you wouldn't," he says, giving Five a look that's way too smug for his own good.

"We'll never know, will we?" Five retorts hotly as he raises his leg, setting it on the shower bench mounted to the wall. He makes a show of looking Diego pointedly in the eye as he begins to soap his cock and hole down, fingers seating inside of him with the faintest twitch of his brow as he begins to clean himself of lube and cum-- mostly cum, at this point.

"Don't try to distract me," Diego says after being notably distracted for a moment, his eyes drifting down the length of Five's body. "I'm not-- you cant get off the hook that easy. You made it part of the rules so pony up, cowboy. Otherwise next time we make a bet I get to ignore some of my own rules when it's convenient for me."

Foot propped on the bench, Five leans back as he drags soap through himself and over himself, lavishing only a little bit in the way he can make Diego's thoughts visibly leave his brain with as little as a few passes with his own hand. He gives Diego a challenging look, thick brow raising as he tilts his head curiously, "You want me to tell them like this?" Five asks, a finger dipping into himself.

Diego's brain short circuits a little at the sight, blinking a little too quickly as he struggles to formulate thoughts for a moment, and he has to physically tear his eyes away from Five's lower half to do so, focusing back on his face instead. 

"You know I'd like that," he says, after a little bit too long a pause, Five's mindgames working their magic over him flawlessly. "But no, you can tell them at dinner tonight."

Five smiles indulgently as he looks up at his brother, an additional finger burying itself in his open hole before he withdraws again, foot landing back on the tile, pleased at the reaction. Rinsing his hands, he holds them out expectantly, "Shampoo?"

Diego grabs that wrist instead and flips him around to face the tile, holding him by the back of the neck as he enters him again, holding him under the knee with the other hand to force Five into a half-stumble that he pins him through the entire time as Diego rails him. What is he punishing Five for this time? Being smug, being flirty? Honestly Diego doesn't even _need_ an excuse anymore. 

By the time dinner rolls around, they've already fucked so many times they're starting to get sore, as if condensing the entire week's worth of tension into a single day. Diego starts using condoms after their third or fourth go-around on Five's request, just so he doesn't have to keep cleaning himself out after every time they throw themselves at one another like animals. 

Fully intending to have Five sitting down tenderly by the time dinner rolls around, the family all crowd around the living room informally to eat. Gone are the days of sitting poshly around a long expensive dining table while listening to some scientist drone on while they eat underseasoned porkchops and peas. Now they have couches that are actually pleasant to sit on, eating comunally from whatever they decided to put on the coffee table while they chat and enjoy one another's company. Tonight it's taco salad, courtesy of a tireless Klaus and Allison. 

Five didn't ever think he would find gratitude in sofas, something so innocuous and commonplace that even the apocalypse had offered him a few to luxuriate on, but tonight, at dinner, surrounded by family, he was thankful for sofas. The ability to mask his emotions came in handy too, but it would not be the first time he was grateful for that since coming home-- Even if Luther does keep glancing at him, eyes wide and sheepish at the same time.

Klaus is busy talking loudly with Vanya and Allison about their theatre trip the prior night, while making lascivious eyes at Diego and licking his fork clean with every bite, using a bit more tongue than was ever actually required. Five ignores him, too, patiently eating his salad with the mechanical constancy of a man trying to get out as soon as possible.

"So," Allison says, rolling her eyes with a sideways glance to Vanya. It was obvious something had happened, and they were left out of the loop. "What'd you guys get up to while we were gone?" She asks, looking from Luther (Who looks away), to Klaus (Who was never looking at her to begin with), then to Five (Who's deadpan expression doesn't change) and finally Diego, who she stops on, "Anything good?"

"You know, I'm so glad you asked," Diego says, and he _feels_ Five's entire body clench through the cushions of the sofa. "Five actually has an announcement to make." 

It was cruel, making him think he'd maybe forgotten since that morning, letting him get through at least half of dinner without bringing it up-- but he knows Five would do the exact same thing to him. He smirks over at Five, crossing his ankle over his other knee and reaching his hand out across the back of the sofa, lounging like a lion. "Don't you, Five?"

Klaus leans forward like he can't move fast enough, almost bouncing in his seat as his eyes go from Diego to Five, grinning like a wolf, "Oh, are we sharing?" He asks, sounding giddy, "You know I love sharing."

Five's eyes snap to him and narrow, but even that isn't enough to make Klaus' smile wane for a minute, nor to make him back off. He feels the weight of the room on him, the expectant eyes of his siblings on him as he calmly takes a bite and chews. 

In truth, Five had been hoping Diego would see their final union as an exercise in failure for them both. It was obvious Five had thrown the bet intentionally, and Diego had been more than alright with caving to his instincts. Five could have very well told Diego to ask him to fuck, and could have played the game that way; But no, Five had to have _integrity_. It would kill him one of these days.

"As you may or may not know, Diego and I made a bet last week," Five says, keeping as vague as possible under the heavy weight of his sisters' gaze. It was theirs that hurt the most. He wipes his mouth, obviously buying himself time to settle his face before he leans back in his chair, "I lost." He says, taking a too-big bite and offering nothing else.

"He lost," Diego echoes, _way_ too smugly. 

"Well... to be fair, he's physically pretty young," Vanya offers, making a case in favor of Five's dignity. "It's not... really that much to brag about, sexually outpacing a preteen."

"Vanya, I'm _begging_ you, let me have this," Diego says, holding his hands together like a prayer.

"Wait, didn't you blow him whenever he asked for a straight week?" Allison asks, grinning slightly over at Diego.

"Yeah? And?" Diego crosses his arms, his cheeks heating up. "You got something against oral sex I don't know about? Because last time I walked in on you and Luther, you were going down on him so hard I could've mistaken you for an elevator."

"WHOA-kay," Luther coughs, choking on a bite of his dinner. 

"Easy, buddy, easy, we're all family, here," Klaus croons adoringly, reaching over to pat Luther one one bulky shoulder.

Allison just grins wider, though, "Sure, but I wouldn't say Luther _lost_ anything. I would say he _gained_ an exceptional blow job."

Five's lips twitch, and he slowly glances over to Diego, the twitch turning into a full-blown smirk, "He blew me in an alley while he was out _saving the city_ , you know," He offers conversationally, almost giddy to have the tables turned, and only barely repressing it.

"Diego!" Allison gasps, looking delighted, "An _alley?"_

"Wish someone would blow _me_ in an alley," Klaus sighs wistfully.

"Why're you guys flipping this on me?" Diego's ears burn hotly. " _He_ lost!" 

"I think in any kind of sex wager, the real adventure is the friends you make along the way," Vanya gives a soft laugh, tucking her legs up under her. 

"You two should join us next time Vanya, Allison. Diego really liked having company," Five says cordially, not even bothering to hide his smug satisfaction, "Didn't you?"

Klaus lets out a hoot, "Oh, I can attest to that. He really gave it his all, didn't you, big guy?"

"Okay, sure, laugh it up," Diego says, crossing his arms over his chest, his entire face burning. "Go ahead and make fun of the guy _really_ good at giving head. See if I go down on _any_ of you again."

" _Was_ it really good?" Allison asks, turning expectant eyes towards Five. "Turn in the report card."

"Above average," Five agrees without hesitation, pausing a bit to dramatically consider an actual score, before shrugging a shoulder. "I'd say a B+."

"A B-- A _B PLUS?!"_ Diego launches himself at his brother, who vanishes from the spot to reappear behind the couch, dinner still in hand, smirking like a cat. "I'm gonna SHOW YOU B PLUS--" he vaults over the back of the couch in hot pursuit, to the sound of Klaus's crow of approval, Vanya's laughter, and Luther choking on his dinner _again_. 

At this point, this is a pretty typical night at the Hargreeves house, and even if Diego never manages to actually _catch_ Five, the chase is most of the fun. 


End file.
